"You'll only fall down the stairs or something and make a row," said Pip.
"I shan't," said Bets crossly, raising her voice. Pip nudged her.
"Shut up! You'll wake everyone. All right — come it you want to, but for goodness' sake be quiet."
They did not bother to put on dressing-gowns, for the night was so warm. They padded down the passage and on to the landing. Pip fell over something, and rolled down a few stairs before he was able to catch hold of the banisters and stop himself from falling any farther.
"What's the matter, Pip?" said Bets in alarm.
"Fell over the silly kitchen cat," whispered back Pip. "Golly, I hope no one heard me."
The two sat on the stairs holding their breath for a minute or two, expecting to hear a movement in their parents' room. But nobody stirred. The cat sat at the bottom of the stairs, her green eyes gleaming in the darkness.
"I believe she tripped me up on purpose," said Pip. "She's been awful cross ever since we let Buster into the house. Get away, Puss."
The cat mewed and fled. The children went groping their way down the dark passage to the garden door. Pip unlocked it, and they stepped out into the silent garden. Bets clung to Pip's hand. She didn't very much like the dark.
The whistle sounded again. "It's somewhere at the top of the garden," said Pip. "Come on! Keep on the grass, Bets. The gravel makes a noise."