'
'Our old cook's there,' said Anthea. 'She's queen--'
'Oh, chuck it,' the burglar whispered, clutching at his head with
both hands. 'I knowed the first minute I see them cats and that
cow as it was a judgement on me. I don't know now whether I'm
a-standing on my hat or my boots, so help me I don't. If you CAN
get me out, get me, and if you can't, get along with you for
goodness' sake, and give me a chanst to think about what'll be most
likely to go down with the Beak in the morning.'
'Come on to the carpet, then,' said Anthea, gently shoving. The
others quietly pulled, and the moment the feet of the burglar were
planted on the carpet Anthea wished:
'I wish we were all on the sunny southern shore where cook is.'
And instantly they were. There were the rainbow sands, the tropic
glories of leaf and flower, and there, of course, was the cook,
crowned with white flowers, and with all the wrinkles of crossness
and tiredness and hard work wiped out of her face.
'Why, cook, you're quite pretty!' Anthea said, as soon as she had
got her breath after the tumble-rush-whirl of the carpet. The
burglar stood rubbing his eyes in the brilliant tropic sunlight,
and gazing wildly round him on the vivid hues of the tropic land.
'Penny plain and tuppence coloured!' he exclaimed pensively, 'and
well worth any tuppence, however hard-earned.
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