It was horrible to have
mother looking straight at them, and her face keeping the same,
just as though they weren't there.
'I don't like it,' said Jane. 'Mother never looked at us like that
before. Just as if she didn't love us--as if we were somebody
else's children, and not very nice ones either--as if she didn't
care whether she saw us or not.'
'It is horrid,' said Anthea, almost in tears.
But at this moment the Lamb saw them, and plunged towards the
carpet, shrieking, 'Panty, own Panty--an' Pussy, an' Squiggle--an'
Bobs, oh, oh!'
Anthea caught him and kissed him, so did Jane; they could not help
it--he looked such a darling, with his blue three-cornered hat all
on one side, and his precious face all dirty--quite in the old
familiar way.
'I love you, Panty; I love you--and you, and you, and you,' cried
the Lamb.
It was a delicious moment. Even the boys thumped their baby
brother joyously on the back.
Then Anthea glanced at mother--and mother's face was a pale
sea-green colour, and she was staring at the Lamb as if she thought
he had gone mad. And, indeed, that was exactly what she did think.
'My Lamb, my precious! Come to mother,' she cried, and jumped up
and ran to the baby.
She was so quick that the invisible children had to leap back, or
she would have felt them; and to feel what you can't see is the
worst sort of ghost-feeling.
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