‘There was an old Roman Johnny,’ said Charles instructively; ‘he asked all his friends to a party, and let down tons of rose leaves on them till they died. Couldn’t we do that to Rupert? Not till he died, of course, but till he got better.’
‘We might cover him with rose leaves,’ said Caroline, delighted with the romantic idea, ‘like babes in the wood. Let’s get pillow-cases full—I know where the linen-room is—and hide them till every one’s in bed. And then put them over him. We ought to put something out of the Language Of as well. Iceland moss means health, I believe. Only there isn’t any.’
A hasty search in the Language of Flowers informed them that nemophila meant ‘success everywhere’; and as nothing more suitable could be found, it was decided to mix a few nemophila flowers with the rose leaves.
‘There was a secret Society once called The Rosicurians. Aunt Emmeline told me,’ said Caroline. ’We shall be that if the roses cure Rupert. I like being long-ago things, don’t you?’
The garden was very wet indeed. Even in mackintoshes it was difficult to avoid getting wet through. Every tree dripped on the children’s heads, and the water from the soaked rose leaves ran up their sleeves and down their necks. There were so many fully-blown roses that it was easy enough to fill the three frilled linen pillow-cases, though of course it isn’t the sort of thing that is done all in a minute.
It was nearly bedtime when the three dripping children, each carrying a dripping sack of rose leaves, stood outside the arbour which led to the secret passage. They had gone out that way.
‘I know we were told not to,’ Charlotte had said, ’but it was only the Wil-cat who told us, and it was only because the Uncle doesn’t like other people to use the passage. And of course we’ll tell him afterwards, and he’ll say it was all right. When we’ve cured Rupert every one will say how clever.’
Yet now at the last they hesitated.
‘I do wish I could remember,’ said Caroline frowning, ’whether we did promise not to go through the passage or whether it was only that we were told not to. It really does make all the difference, doesn’t it?’
(It often happens that grown-up people think children are disobedient because really and truly the children can’t remember whether they promised or not, and naturally they give themselves the benefit of the doubt. Sometimes the grown-ups do not, in their turn, give the children this benefit.)