“But the house is locked up; there’s no one there to read anything,” Bernard reminded them.
There was a dismal silence. Then:
“Perhaps burglars will break in and read it,” suggested Reuben kindly. “Anyhow, what’s the use of kicking up a shine about it? I can’t see what you want to go back for. It’s a little bit of all right here, so it is—I don’t think. Plucky sight better than anything I ever come across. I’m a-goin’ to enjoy myself I am, and see all the sights. Miss, there, said we might.”
“Well spoken indeed,” said Maia, smiling at his earnest face. “That is the true spirit of the explorer.”
“But we’re not explorers,” said Mavis, a little crossly, for her; “and we’re not so selfish as you think, either. Mother will be awfully frightened if we’re not home to tea. She’ll think we’re drowned.”
“Well, you are drowned,” said Maia brightly. “At least that’s what I believe you land people call it when you come down to us and neglect to arrange to have the spell of return said for you.”
“How horrible,” said Mavis. “Oh, Cathay,” and she clutched her sister tightly.
“But you needn’t stay drowned,” said the Princess. “Someone’s sure to say the spell somehow or other. I assure you that this is true; and then you will go home with the speed of an eel.”
They felt, somehow, in their bones that this was true, and it consoled them a little. Things which you feel in your bones are most convincing.
“But Mother,” said Mavis.