h a bang that made it jump off its
trencher.

"I _do_ want the jug got," said Anthea softly. "You _will_ go, won't
you?"

"Well, just for this once, I don't mind; but mind you don't get into
none of your outrageous mischief while I'm gone--that's all!"

"He's going earlier than he thought," said Anthea eagerly. "You'd better
hurry and get dressed. Do put on that lovely purple frock, Martha, and
the hat with the pink cornflowers, and the yellow-lace collar. Jane'll
finish laying the cloth, and I'll wash the Lamb and get him ready."

As she washed the unwilling Lamb and hurried him into his best clothes,
Anthea peeped out of the window from time to time; so far all was
well--she could see no Red Indians. When with a rush and a scurry and
some deepening of the damask of Martha's complexion she and the Lamb had
been got off, Anthea drew a deep breath.

"_He's_ safe!" she said, and, to Jane's horror, flung herself down on
the floor and burst into floods of tears. Jane did not understand at all
how a person could be so brave and like a general, and then suddenly
give way and go flat like an air-balloon when you prick it. It is better
not to go flat, of course, but you will observe that Anthea did not give
way till her aim was accomplished. She had got the dear Lamb out of
danger--she felt certain that the Red Indians would be round the White
House or nowhere--the farmer's cart would not come back till after
sunset, so she could afford to cry a little. It was partly with joy that
she cried, because she had done what she meant to do. She cried for
about three minutes, while Jane hugged her miserably and said at
five-second intervals, "Don't cry, Panther dear!"

Then she jumped up, rubbed her eyes hard with the corner of her
pinafore, so that they kept red for the rest of the day, and started to
tell the boys. But just at that moment cook rang the dinner-bell, and
nothing could be said till they had been helped to minced beef. Then
cook left the room, and Anthea told her tale. But it is a mistake to
tell a thrilling tale when people are eating minced beef and boiled
potatoes. There seemed somehow to be something about the food that made
the idea of Red Indians seem flat and unbelievable. The boys actually
laughed, and called Anthea a little silly.

"Why," said Cyril, "I'm almost sure it was before I said that, that Jane
said she wished it would be a fine day."

"It wasn't," said Jane briefly.

"Why, if it was Indians,