“Pooh! this time in the morning. What nonsense.”
“Well it’s been going on for ever so long, anyhow, and hark, there’s something keeps banging about like anything in the breakfast-room.”
Dick ran to the top of the stairs and listened. Sure enough, there was a most mysterious noise going on below,—a dull banging at regular intervals, and a curious lapping sound, as though there was water in the lower part of the house.
“Let’s go and see what’s up!” said Dick promptly.
“Me too,” said a shrill treble voice, and a little curly-headed apparition came running out of the bedroom, flourishing a wooden spade.
“No! you cut along into bed again, Fidge,” cried Dick.
“Want to go and see the bur-ge-lers!” declared Fidge, pushing past them, and racing down the stairs.
“Come back, you scamp,” cried Dick, running after him; but with a saucy and defiant laugh Fidge sped down to the first landing.
“Ooh!” he cried, looking over the banisters, “It’s all drownded; look, Dick! quick!”
Dick and Marjorie hurried down and leaned over the banisters too.