Four long breaths of deep relief were instantly breathed. The
draught which they had never liked before was for the moment quite
pleasant. And they were safe. And every one else was safe. The
theatre had been quite empty when they left. Every one was sure of
that.
They presently found themselves all talking at once. Somehow none
of their adventures had given them so much to talk about. None
other had seemed so real.
'Did you notice--?' they said, and 'Do you remember--?'
When suddenly Anthea's face turned pale under the dirt which it had
collected on it during the fire.
'Oh,' she cried, 'mother and father! Oh, how awful! They'll think
we're burned to cinders. Oh, let's go this minute and tell them we
aren't.'
'We should only miss them,' said the sensible Cyril.
'Well--YOU go then,' said Anthea, 'or I will. Only do wash your
face first. Mother will be sure to think you are burnt to a cinder
if she sees you as black as that, and she'll faint or be ill or
something. Oh, I wish we'd never got to know that Phoenix.'
'Hush!' said Robert; 'it's no use being rude to the bird. I
suppose it can't help its nature. Perhaps we'd better wash too.
Now I come to think of it my hands are rather--'
No one had noticed the Phoenix since it had bidden them to step on
the carpet.
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