Edith Nesbit: Children's Books Collection (Illustrated Edition). Эдит Несбит

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      And then we all saw that the lady was our own Mrs. Red House, that we liked so much. So we all rushed to her, and before that Police had got the door answered we had told her our tale. The other ladies had turned away when we approached her, and gone politely away into a shrubbery.

      "There, there," she said, patting Alice and Noël and as much of the others as she could get hold of. "Don't you worry, dears, don't. I'll make it all right with Sir James. Let's all sit down in a comfy heap, and get our breaths again. I am so glad to see you all. My husband met your father at lunch the other day. I meant to come over and see you to-morrow."

      You cannot imagine the feelings of joy and safeness that we felt now we had found someone who knew we were Bastables, and not vagrant outcasts like the Police thought.

      The door had now been answered. We saw the base Police talking to the person who answered it. Then he came towards us, very red in the face.

      "Leave off bothering the lady," he said, "and come along of me. Sir James is in his library, and he's ready to do justice on you, so he is."

      Mrs. Red House jumped up, and so did we. She said with smiles, as if nothing was wrong—

      "Good morning, Inspector!"

      He looked pleased and surprised, as well he might, for it'll be long enough before he's within a mile of being that.

      "Good morning, miss, I'm sure," he replied.

      "I think there's been a little mistake, Inspector," she said. "I expect it's some of your men—led away by zeal for their duties. But I'm sure you'll understand. I am staying with Lady Harborough, and these children are very dear friends of mine."

      The Police looked very silly, but he said something about hawking without a license.

      "Oh no, not hawking," said Mrs. Red House, "not hawking, surely! They were just playing at it, you know. Your subordinates must have been quite mistaken."

      Our honesty bade us say that he was his own only subordinate, and that he hadn't been mistaken; but it is rude to interrupt, especially a lady, so we said nothing.

      The Police said firmly, "You'll excuse me, miss, but Sir James expressly told me to lay a information directly next time I caught any of 'em at it without a license."

      "But, you see, you didn't catch them at it." Mrs. Red House took some money out of her purse. "You might just give this to your subordinates to console them for the mistake they've made. And look here, these mistakes do lead to trouble sometimes. So I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll promise not to tell Sir James a word about it. So nobody will be blamed."

      We listened breathless for his reply. He put his hands behind him—

      "Well, miss," he said at last, "you've managed to put the Force in the wrong somehow, which isn't often done, and I'm blest if I know how you make it out. But there's Sir James a-waiting for me to come before him with my complaint. What am I a-goin' to say to him?"

      "Oh, anything," said Mrs. Red House; "surely some one else has done something wrong that you can tell him about?"

      "There was a matter of a couple of snares and some night lines," he said slowly, drawing nearer to Mrs. Red House; "but I couldn't take no money, of course."

      "Of course not," she said; "I beg your pardon for offering it. But I'll give you my name and address, and if ever I can be of any use to you——"

      She turned her back on us while she wrote it down with a stumpy pencil he lent her; but Oswald could swear that he heard money chink, and that there was something large and round wrapped up in the paper she gave him.

      "Sorry for any little misunderstanding," the Police now said, feeling the paper with his fingers; "and my respects to you, miss, and your young friends. I'd best be going."

      And he went—to Sir James, I suppose. He seemed quite tamed. I hope the people who set the snares got off.

      "So that's all right," said Mrs. Red House. "Oh, you dear children, you must stay to lunch, and we'll have a splendid time."

      "What a darling Princess you are!" Noël said slowly. "You are a witch Princess, too, with magic powers over the Police."

      "It's not a very pretty sort of magic," she said, and she sighed.

      "Everything about you is pretty," said Noël. And I could see him beginning to make the faces that always precur his poetry-fits. But before the fit could break out thoroughly the rest of us awoke from our stupor of grateful safeness and began to dance round Mrs. Red House in a ring. And the girls sang—

      "The rose is red, the violet's blue,

       Carnation's sweet, and so are you,"

      over and over again, so we had to join in; though I think "She's a jolly good fellow would have been more manly and less like a poetry book."

      Suddenly a known voice broke in on our singing.

      "Well!" it said. And we stopped dancing. And there were the other two ladies who had politely walked off when we first discovered Mrs. Red House. And one of them was Mrs. Bax—of all people in the world! And she was smoking a cigarette. So now we knew where the smell of tobacco came from, in the White House.

      We said, "Oh!" in one breath, and were silent.

      "Is it possible," said Mrs. Bax, "that these are the Sunday-school children I've been living with these three long days?"

      "We're sorry," said Dora, softly; "we wouldn't have made a noise if we'd know you were here."

      "So I suppose," said Mrs. Bax. "Chloe, you seem to be a witch. How have you galvanised my six rag dolls into life like this?"

      "Rag dolls!" said H.O., before we could stop him. "I think you're jolly mean and ungrateful; and it was sixpence for making the organs fly."

      "My brain's reeling," said Mrs. Bax, putting her hands to her head.

      "H.O. is very rude, and I am sorry," said Alice, "but it is hard to be called rag dolls, when you've only tried to do as you were told."

      And then, in answer to Mrs. Red House's questions, we told how father had begged us to be quiet, and how we had earnestly tried to. When it was told, Mrs. Bax began to laugh, and so did Mrs. Red House, and at last Mrs. Bax said—

      "Oh, my dears! you don't know how glad I am that you're really alive! I began to think—oh—I don't know what I thought! And you're not rag dolls. You're heroes and heroines, every man jack of you. And I do thank you. But I never wanted to be quiet like that. I just didn't want to be bothered with London and tiresome grown-up people. And now let's enjoy ourselves! Shall it be rounders, or stories about cannibals?"

      "Rounders first and stories after," said H.O. And it was so.

      Mrs. Bax, now that her true nature was revealed, proved to be A1. The author does not ask for a jollier person to be in the house with. We had rare larks the whole time she stayed with us.

      And to think that we might never have known her true character if she hadn't been an old school friend of Mrs. Red House's, and if Mrs. Red СКАЧАТЬ