"Oh," said Paul. He gazed about the room, but a little less happily.

"Paul," said Carey some time later, when they had drunk their tea and Mrs. Watkins had left them alone again, "I told you this was a stupid kind of wish. I tried to warn you. It would have been better to go back into the Middle Ages or anything than this. This is worse than anything that has ever happened to us. We've lost the bed. The policeman will ring up Mother. Mother will be terribly worried. The law may get her too. Aunt Beatrice will know. They'll make us explain everything. Miss Price will get into trouble. We shall have broken our promise. It will be the end of the magic bed-k.n.o.b. And n.o.body will ever trust us again. . . ."

Paul looked grave.

"Do you see, Paul?" Carey's voice sounded as if she were going to cry again. "And it's Charles and me who'll get the blame. They'll say we led you into it, that we're old enough to know better. Do you understand?"

Paul brightened perceptibly. "Yes," he said.

"We're locked in here. And there isn't anything we can do."

She broke off. Suddenly outside in the courtyard there was a screech of brakes. They heard the running engine of a car, and voices shouting.

"They're bringing someone else in!" exclaimed Paul excitedly.

Charles went j.a.p to the window, but he dared not disturb the blind. "They'll see us," he said.

"I know what," cried Carey. "Switch out this light!"

Charles switched off the light by the door. Then, in the darkness, he tugged a corner of the blind. It flew up with a rattle. A pinkish light, faint but clear, shone inwards on the room.

"It's dawn," said Charles wonderingly. "Morning. We've been away all night." He stared down into the courtyard.

"I say, Carey-"

"What?"

"They're not bringing anyone in. It's-" He paused excitedly. "Carey, it's the bed!"

Carey leapt out of her chair, and Paul threw off the blanket. They raced to the window. They watched, in that dim early light, two policemen lift the bed from the van. They heard the legs sc.r.a.pe as it was dragged across the cobblestones. They saw the policemen push it up against the wall. Then both men stood, rubbing the strain out of their hands and staring at the bed. They laughed. "I could do with a nap meself," said one as they walked away indoors. Then the courtyard became silent.

"If we could get to it-" breathed Charles.

"If-" said Carey.

The pale light shone softly on their faces as, longingly, they stared out through the bars.

6 MAGIC IN THE COURTYARD.

At about nine o'clock next morning, the sergeant and the inspector faced each other across the inspector's desk. The sergeant was standing. His hat was in his hand and his face was very red.

". . . and that's all I know, sir," the sergeant was saying.

"But how did they get away?" asked the inspector. "I'm afraid I don't follow you, Sergeant. How did they get into the yard to start with?"

"Well, Mrs. Watkins took 'em down, sir, to see my garden."

"To see your garden?" repeated the inspector in a surprised voice.

"Them dahlias, sir, in pots, at the end of the yard, sir. Mrs. Watkins calls 'em my garden. I got some sweet peas, sir, too-coming up nicely, the sweet peas are."

"I didn't know you were a horticulturist, Sergeant." The inspector spoke rather coldly. "And then?"

"Mrs. Watkins, she quite took to those kids, sir. She thought they'd like to see the bird, sir, too."

"The bird?"

"I got a canary down there, sir. I was putting it out, like, in the sun, early this morning."

"Have you got anything else down there in the yard?"

The sergeant shuffled his feet.

"Well, sir, only the silkworms."

The inspector glanced out of the window, pursing up his mouth in a rather peculiar way as if he were trying to keep it still.

"And you left the children alone in the yard?" he asked sternly.

"Well, sir, the gate was locked, sir. Roberts was on duty outside. I'd just slipped in the pa.s.sage to sip a cup o' tea Mrs. Watkins 'ad there waiting."

"Well, go on. How long were you sipping this tea?"

"No time at all, sir. I just took the cup like from Mrs. Watkins, put in a bit of sugar, stirred it, and came right out to the door-"

"And then-?"

"Well, I couldn't see the children. I thought at first they was round be'ind the pillars." The sergeant wiped his face with his handkerchief. "But no," he added.

"They'd gone?"

"Yes, sir, they'd gone."

"And the bed, too."

"Yes, sir, and the bed, too. We searched the premises. The yard gate was still padlocked. Roberts said he 'adn't seen nothing."

The inspector stared at his fingernails. "Very peculiar. Mrs. Watkins bears out your story?"

"Yes, sir."

"Mrs. Watkins took to them, you say?"

"Yes, sir. They were nice kids, sir, well brought up. I got sort of sore with 'em last night. 'Urt my leg on that there bed of theirs. But they weren't bad, not at 'eart they weren't."

The inspector leaned back in his chair. "You took to them yourself, in fact?"

"Not last night I didn't. But this morning-well, sir, they were so pleased like to see my little bird."

"You regretted perhaps," said the inspector slowly, fixing the sergeant with his eye, "having brought them in at all."

The sergeant stared back at the inspector. His eyes became very round and blue in his red face. He opened his mouth with a gasp. "You think I went and let them out, sir?" Then his fat face became stern and dignified. He swallowed. "I wouldn't do a thing like that. I know my duty, sir." He looked hurt and stared at a spot on the wall above the inspector's head.

The inspector smiled. "I'm sorry, Sergeant, if I've misjudged you. But you've told me a very tall story, you know. If the front gate is locked, there's absolutely no way out of the yard."

"I know, sir."

"And there's this business of the bed. . . ."

"Yes, sir," said the sergeant.

"These children couldn't be considered in any way as delinquents. They were just having some prank, isn't that so?"

"Yes, sir." Suddenly a curious, half-shy look came into the sergeant's eyes. He twisted his hat round in his hands. He looked at the inspector as if he hardly dared put his thought into words.

"Something just occurred to me, sir." The sergeant was blushing.

"Well?"

"The little girl, when I asked 'er 'ow she brought the bed up from Bedfordshire . . ."

"Yes?"

The sergeant dropped his voice. "She said she brought it up by magic."

For a moment the inspector did not speak; then, "Really, Sergeant-" he said weakly.

The sergeant's blush became deeper. "I know, sir," he said humbly.

"Really, Sergeant," went on the inspector, standing up and beginning to gather together the papers he would need in court. "You're a grown man, now. You must curb these fancies."

CAREY HAS AN IDEA.

It was with a feeling of great relief that the children found themselves back again in Paul's bedroom. Carey and Charles barely had time to wash themselves and to dress Paul before Elizabeth sounded the gong for breakfast. Paul nearly fell asleep over his porridge, and Carey and Charles felt guilty when, later on, Elizabeth thanked them for having made the beds they hadn't slept in. Their adventure did not seem like a dream, but it seemed as if they had been away for much longer than one night, and all of them felt very sleepy.

"Let's go down and see Miss Price this morning," suggested Carey, "and this afternoon let's go up to the hayloft and sleep till teatime,"

They found Miss Price kneeling at her flower border, planting. She wore a large straw hat and a canvas ap.r.o.n with pockets. It was a lovely day, and the scented garden lay a-dream in the blazing warmth of the sun.

"Well," said Miss Price, sitting back and staring anxiously at their flushed, perspiring faces, "did it work?"

"Yes," said Carey. "It worked like magic-I mean, like a charm-I mean. . . . Oh, Miss Price, it did work." She flung herself down on the gra.s.s beside Miss Price.

"Did you enjoy yourselves?" asked Miss Price rather anxiously. "Paul looks as though he can hardly keep his eyes open."

Carey pulled up a little tuft of the sweet-smelling lawn.

"Well, we didn't exactly enjoy ourselves," she admitted, and tried to push the tuft back again.

"You didn't!" exclaimed Miss Price. She looked worried.

Then out came the whole story. The children often interrupted each other, and sometimes they spoke in chorus, but gradually Miss Price pieced the pattern together. She became graver and graver as they described their adventures with the law and looked aghast when she heard they had actually been taken to the police station. She looked sad when Charles told her how the prison van had brought the bed into the yard and how they had stared at it through the barred window, but she brightened considerably when they got to the bit about the sergeant's garden. Carey copied Mrs. Watkins's voice saying, "Well, pop down and look at the bird, then, but don't you touch them dahlias." They didn't have to describe the rest. Miss Price knew too well what would happen once they were in reach of the bed. "Did anyone see you go?" she asked.

"No," said Carey, "that's when the sergeant went inside for his cup of tea."

"Did the bed go at once?"

"Yes, like a flash. The second that Paul wished. We'd hardly got on it."

"Well," said Miss Price thoughtfully, "let's hope they don't ring up your mother."

"Mother would say it couldn't have been us," pointed out Charles. "She'd know we couldn't have been in London."

"That's true, Charles," agreed Carey. "And Aunt Beatrice would say at once that we were here. We couldn't have been in London, possibly."

Paul looked bewildered. "Then where were we?" he asked.

"Oh, Paul!" exclaimed Carey impatiently. She turned her back on him and watched Miss Price, who had begun once more to dig holes with the trowel. "What are you planting, Miss Price?"

"Edelweiss," said Miss Price absently. She sighed. "Well, all's well that ends well. You were lucky. It might have been worse, a good deal worse."

Carey watched Miss Price insert a silvery plant in the hole, and Charles rolled over sleepily to observe a formation of Valiants against the peaceful sky.

"I thought edelweiss only grew above the snow line," Carey remarked wonderingly.

Miss Price became rather pink and pursed up her lips. "It grows quite well in my garden," she said shortly.

Carey was silent. After she had thought awhile, she said carelessly, "Are you showing anything in the flower show, Miss Price?"

Miss Price's color deepened. "I might show a rose."

"A new rose?" asked Carey interestedly.

"No, a big one," said Miss Price.

"Can we see it?" asked Carey.

"Well, it's still in bud," said Miss Price unwillingly.

"Could we see the bud?"

"Oh dear, Carey," cried Miss Price, suddenly exasperated, "I'm sure it's your lunch time."

"Not till one o'clock," said Carey rea.s.suringly. "Miss Price."

"Well?"

"If anyone was going in for a flower show, would it be fair for them to use magic?"