"Stay," he said, "if it is only a stamp for a letter that you want, I can easily give you one."

He turned towards the man who was writing at the desk place and said something quickly, and the man held out a stamp which the gentleman handed to me.

"Shall I put it on the letter for you?" he asked.

"Oh no, thank you," I said, in a great hurry to get away now that I had actually the precious stamp in my possession. "I can put it on quite well. Here is the penny, and thank you very much for the stamp."

He took the penny quite seriously. I was glad of that, and liked him the better for it. Had he refused it I should have been really offended.

"And what will you do with the letter now?" he said. "Shall you not have still to go to the post-office to put it in?"

"Oh no," I said, "there is a pillar-post quite near our house."

"And you are sure you know your way?" he said as he opened the shop-door for us. "What is the name of the street where you live?"

I hesitated. Curiously enough I had never heard the name of the street where Uncle Geoff lived--I looked at Tom and Tom looked at me. He did not know it either.

"I don't know the name of the street," I said, "but I am _sure_ we can find the way. Can't we, Tom?"

"Oh yes, I am _sure_ we can. We live at our uncle's, Dr. Gower's," added Tom, for which I frowned at him.

"At Dr. Gower's," repeated the chemist with surprise. "Dear me-- I don't think your uncle would be pleased if he knew you were out alone.

However, as you say, it is very near--and I shouldn't like to get them scolded, poor little things," he added to himself. "I can tell you the name of the street--it is ---- Street--remember that, and now run home as fast as you can. First turn to the right."

We thanked him again and ran off.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

[Ill.u.s.tration]

CHAPTER IX.

MISS GOLDY-HAIR.

"I thought at first sight that she must be a fairy."

No, I can hardly say we "_ran_" off. There were so many persons on the pavement, that three, even very small people, could not walk along all abreast, without some difficulty. Particularly three small people like us who were accustomed to country lanes without any footpath at all, or high roads where the only fellow-pa.s.sengers whose way we had to get out of were droves of nice silly sheep, or flocks of geese driven home from the market. We knew nothing of keeping to the right hand, and thought the pa.s.sers-by were very rude and unkind when they jostled us, as indeed they could hardly help doing. For as for letting go of each other's hands _that_ we never for an instant thought of.

We were glad to get out of the great crowded, brightly-lighted street, though had we been less in a hurry to get home, we should have greatly enjoyed standing and looking in at the shop-windows, more even than by daylight, and as it was, I was obliged two or three times to tug pretty hard at Tom and Racey to get them away from some very tempting one. At last however--it _did_ seem as if we had been in the big street rather longer turning back from the chemist's than going there--afterwards I remembered this--at last we found ourselves in what we believed to be the same, rather narrow, darkish street where we had pa.s.sed the pillar-post.

"Which side is the pillar?" I said to Tom. "I'm sure it was on this side and now I don't see it."

Tom stared about him.

"It must be a little further on," he said.

But further on it was not to be seen, and we began to feel perfectly puzzled. The street was quite a short one--we soon came to the end, where, right and left, it ran into a wider one, quiet and rather dark too--that is to say, compared with the great street of shops where we had just been. We stood at the corner looking about us--

"This is our street--it must be," I said; "but what _can_ have become of the letter-box in the little street?"

Tom could say nothing, he was as puzzled as I. We walked on slowly, more because we did not know what else to do, than for any other reason.

Going home without posting the letter, for which we had run such risks, was not to be thought of. Suddenly Tom gave a little scream, and would have darted across the street had I not kept tight hold of him.

"Tom, what is the matter? Where are you going?" I said.

Tom wriggled and pulled.

"Let me go, Audrey," he said. "_There's_ one--don't you see--across the street. Let me go, to be sure it's a proper one like the other."

"One" meant another pillar-post. I wouldn't let go of Tom, but we all went across together to examine it. It was just like the one that had suddenly disappeared from the little street, and it took a great weight off me when I had dropped my letter into it.

"It is just as if they had wheeled it across from the street opposite--isn't it?" I said to Tom.

But as there were no wheels, and as the pillar seemed stuck in the ground as firm as a rock, we could not explain the mystery.

"Now," said I, "let's run across again and find our house. It must be just about opposite."

We crossed the street and went along slowly, peeping at every house we pa.s.sed in search of some sign by which we would know it. We had left the door the tiniest little bit ajar you will remember--and two or three times when we saw a house which we fancied looked just like Uncle Geoff's, we went up the steps and gently pushed to see if the door was open. But no--none of them were, and beginning to be really frightened we returned to the pavement and considered what we should do.

"I don't understand it," I said, "we _must_ have pa.s.sed it. It wasn't above five or six houses from the street we turned, down, where the pillar-post was."

"But, Audrey," said Tom, "p'raps we came up another street by mistake, 'cause you know we couldn't find the pillar coming back. Let's go back a little and see if we don't come to the street where _it_ is, and then we'll know."

It seemed the only thing to do--it was quite, _quite_ dark of course by now--the only light was from the gas-lamps, which in this street did not seem very bright. It was very cold--we were all three beginning to shiver, because, you see, running out as we thought just for five minutes we had not wrapped up very warmly. It was worst for the boys, who had nothing besides the sailor suits they always wore, except their comforters and caps, though I had my jacket. And to add to our troubles it began to rain, a miserable, fine, cold rain, which seemed to freeze as well as to wet us. I was so unhappy that it was all I could do not to cry.

"The boys will get cold," I said to myself. "And mother said we must be very careful of cold for Tom this winter as he had the measles so badly.

Oh dear, what _shall_ we do! If I could see anybody, I would ask them to help us to find the way back to Uncle Geoff's."

But just then there was no one in sight, and I was thinking whether it would not be best to try to find our way back to the friendly chemist and ask him to help us, when Tom called out suddenly:

"Audrey, we've got on the wrong side of the street. Look, the next house is the one with what Racey calls an air-garden."

I looked and saw the little gla.s.s conservatory he pointed out. It belonged to the house next to the one we were pa.s.sing. I didn't feel satisfied-- I couldn't see how we could have got on the wrong side of the street, for we had certainly kept in a right _direction_, but Tom was so sure, I didn't like to contradict him. And he pulled Racey and me across the street almost before I had time to consider.

"Our house is almost opposite the one with the air-garden," he said, "just a little bit further along. Yes, this one _must_ be it." He hurried us up the steps and when we got to the front door gave it a little push. It yielded--it was open.

"You see," said Tom triumphantly, "you see I was right, Audrey."

But almost before he had said the words, Racey pulled us back.

"This _idn't_ our house," he said, "it tannot be. Look, Audrey; look, Tom, this house has a' air-garden too."

He pointed above our heads, and looking up, Tom and I saw what in our hurried crossing the street we had not noticed--there was a conservatory on the first floor just like the one opposite!