Then the
flannel was burned. It made a gay flame, which delighted the
Phoenix and the Lamb.
'How often,' said mother, opening the door--'how often am I to tell
you that you are NOT to play with paraffin? What have you been
doing?'
'We have burnt a paraffiny rag,' Anthea answered.
It was no use telling mother what they had done to the carpet. She
did not know it was a magic carpet, and no one wants to be laughed
at for trying to mend an ordinary carpet with lamp-oil.
'Well, don't do it again,' said mother. 'And now, away with
melancholy! Father has sent a telegram. Look!' She held it out,
and the children, holding it by its yielding corners, read--
'Box for kiddies at Garrick. Stalls for us, Haymarket. Meet
Charing Cross, 6.30.'
'That means,' said mother, 'that you're going to see "The Water
Babies" all by your happy selves, and father and I will take you
and fetch you. Give me the Lamb, dear, and you and Jane put clean
lace in your red evening frocks, and I shouldn't wonder if you
found they wanted ironing. This paraffin smell is ghastly. Run
and get out your frocks.'
The frocks did want ironing--wanted it rather badly, as it
happened; for, being of tomato-Coloured Liberty silk, they had been
found very useful for tableaux vivants when a red dress was
required for Cardinal Richelieu.
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