“Well,” said the old lady, “what is it?”
“If you please,” said Christopher, “we have come about the notice-board outside, which says, ‘Organs and street cries prohibited.’”
“Yes,” Claire broke in; “you see, we have just moved to No. 23, and at our old home—in Bloomsbury, you know—there was such a lot of music, and a Punch and Judy, and there’s none here, and we wondered if it really meant it.”
“WE HAD IT MADE ON PURPOSE.”
“Because,” Christopher went on, “it seemed to us that this notice-board”—and here he unwrapped the new one—“could just as easily be put up as the one you have. We had it made on purpose.” And he held it up before Miss Seaton’s astonished eyes.
“‘Organs and street cries invited!’” she exclaimed. “Why, I never heard such a thing in my life. They drive me frantic.”
“Couldn’t you put cotton-wool in your ears?” Claire asked.
“Or ask them to move a little further on—nearer No. 23?” said Christopher.
“But, my dear children,” said the old lady, “you really are very wilful. I hope your father and mother don’t know what you are doing.”