'
'Not another word,' said the changed Mrs Biddle. 'Of course you
shall have the carpet, my dears, if you've taken such a fancy to
it. No, no; I won't have more than the ten shillings I paid.'
'It does seem hard to ask you for it after you bought it at the
bazaar,' said Anthea; 'but it really IS our nursery carpet. It got
to the bazaar by mistake, with some other things.'
'Did it really, now? How vexing!' said Mrs Biddle, kindly. 'Well,
my dears, I can very well give the extra ten shillings; so you take
your carpet and we'll say no more about it. Have a piece of cake
before you go! I'm so sorry I stepped on your hand, my boy. Is it
all right now?'
'Yes, thank you,' said Robert. 'I say, you ARE good.'
'Not at all,' said Mrs Biddle, heartily. 'I'm delighted to be able
to give any little pleasure to you dear children.'
And she helped them to roll up the carpet, and the boys carried it
away between them.
'You ARE a dear,' said Anthea, and she and Mrs Biddle kissed each
other heartily.
'WELL!' said Cyril as they went along the street.
'Yes,' said Robert, 'and the odd part is that you feel just as if
it was REAL--her being so jolly, I mean--and not only the carpet
making her nice.'
'Perhaps it IS real,' said Anthea, 'only it was covered up with
crossness and tiredness and things, and the carpet took them away.
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