'Good old carpet,' were Cyril's last sleepy words.
'What there is of it,' said the Phoenix, from the cornice-pole.
CHAPTER 11
THE BEGINNING OF THE END
'Well, I MUST say,' mother said, looking at the wishing carpet as
it lay, all darned and mended and backed with shiny American cloth,
on the floor of the nursery--'I MUST say I've never in my life
bought such a bad bargain as that carpet.'
A soft 'Oh!' of contradiction sprang to the lips of Cyril, Robert,
Jane, and Anthea. Mother looked at them quickly, and said--
'Well, of course, I see you've mended it very nicely, and that was
sweet of you, dears.'
'The boys helped too,' said the dears, honourably.
'But, still--twenty-two and ninepence! It ought to have lasted for
years. It's simply dreadful now. Well, never mind, darlings,
you've done your best. I think we'll have coconut matting next
time. A carpet doesn't have an easy life of it in this room, does
it?'
'It's not our fault, mother, is it, that our boots are the really
reliable kind?' Robert asked the question more in sorrow than in
anger.
'No, dear, we can't help our boots,' said mother, cheerfully, 'but
we might change them when we come in, perhaps. It's just an idea
of mine. I wouldn't dream of scolding on the very first morning
after I've come home.
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