'Tuck me up?' cried the Flamp, and—'Tuck that up?' cried Alison, both together, and they all laughed, and at once Alison was at home and comfortable.
They went forward to the city, chatting gaily, but when the wall was reached, the gates were found to be barricaded. No sound of life was audible, no moving thing to be seen.
'As I expected,' said the Flamp sadly. 'They heard me coming, and as usual have locked themselves in. What's to be done?'
'The best course,' remarked old Alison, who was always a wonderful manager, whether with the cold mutton or a child in a temper, 'the best course is to wait. You lie down here, Mr. Flamp, and make as little noise breathing as you can; and you, Tilsa, darling, take this pencil and paper and write a note to your grandfather, to be slipped under the gate. They'll venture out soon and find it.'
The Flamp and Tilsa did as they were bid. This was Tilsa's note to the Liglid:—
'My dear Grandpapa—There is no need to be frightened. Alison and Toby and me are just outside the gates all safe with the Flamp, who is really and truly the sweetest creature you ever saw. He doesn't want to hurt this city at all, he only wants simpithy like I said he did. If you open the gate and tell the people this you can see for yourself how kind and gentle he is, and that there isn't any need of sircumventing him. So please open the gate quickly. Your affectionate grandchild,
Tilsa.
The paper was folded and addressed to 'His Excellency the Liglid of Ule,' and Tobene slipped it under the gate. Then the little party sat down to wait. Old Alison took out her knitting, and as she worked, told the others of her adventures in search of them. 'I had to come alone,' she said: 'every one else was frightened.'