Then an intense white light shone so that the children could see nothing else. And then suddenly there they were again within the narrow walls of Edred's bedroom.
"Well," said Elfrida in tones of brisk commonplace, "what did it say to you? I say, you do look funny."
"Don't!" said Edred crossly. He began to tear off the armor. "Here, help me to get these things off."
"But what did it say?" Elfrida asked, helpfully.
"I can't tell you. I'm not going to tell any one till it's over."
"Oh, just as you like," said Elfrida; "keep your old secrets," and left him.
That was hard, wasn't it?
"I can't help it, I tell you. Oh! Elfrida, if you're going to bother it's just a little bit too much, that's all."
"You really mustn't tell me?"
"I've told you so fifty times," he said. Which was untrue. You know he had really only told her twice.