They came out into Baker Street to find that a thick London fog had enveloped everything.
“Lord! Catch hold of my hand, Ces,” said his mother, dismayed. “This is the pea-soup variety and no mistake. You could cut it with a knife.”
“Why are there no lights? Oh, doesn’t it smell funny! What’s that bell?” chattered Cecil.
Rose paid scant attention to his excitement, beyond gripping him more firmly by the hand.
“I know there’s a policeman at the crossing,” she muttered.
It took them ten minutes to reach the policeman, and a very great deal longer to obey his injunctions and return to Ovington Street by Underground Railway.
Cecil was coughing before they arrived, and that night, for the first time, had a mild attack of croup.
Rose was terrified.
She had never seen croup before, had not the least idea of what to do, and frantically tore downstairs in her dressing-gown in search of Uncle Alfred’s old-fashioned volume of “The Doctor in the Home.”
It was Felix Menebees who turned up the page for her, as soon as he understood why Mrs. Aviolet was in the shop in the middle of the night.