They had a beautiful tea, suddenly presented to them by the nice
curate, and Miss Peasmarsh joined them before they had had more
than three cakes each. It was a merry party, and the curate was
extremely pleasant to every one, 'even to Miss Peasmarsh,' as Jane
said afterwards.
'We ought to get back to the stall,' said Anthea, when no one could
possibly eat any more, and the curate was talking in a low voice to
Miss Peas marsh about 'after Easter'.
'There's nothing to go back for,' said Miss Peasmarsh gaily;
'thanks to you dear children we've sold everything.'
'There--there's the carpet,' said Cyril.
'Oh,' said Miss Peasmarsh, radiantly, 'don't bother about the
carpet. I've sold even that. Mrs Biddle gave me ten shillings for
it. She said it would do for her servant's bedroom.'
'Why,' said Jane, 'her servants don't HAVE carpets. We had cook
from her, and she told us so.'
'No scandal about Queen Elizabeth, if YOU please,' said the curate,
cheerfully; and Miss Peasmarsh laughed, and looked at him as though
she had never dreamed that any one COULD be so amusing. But the
others were struck dumb. How could they say, 'The carpet is ours!'
For who brings carpets to bazaars?
The children were now thoroughly wretched. But I am glad to say
that their wretchedness did not make them forget their manners, as
it does sometimes, even with grown-up people, who ought to know
ever so much better.
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