She sat up in bed to consider this all-important question, and as she did so, a large Book of Travels which she had been reading fell on to the floor with a loud thump.
Coppertop jumped. Then, bending over the edge of the big bed to pick up the Book, she noticed, to her great surprise, that it had risen of its own accord, and was walking sedately over to the window.
“That’s awfully strange!” exclaimed Coppertop.
“If a Book of Travels can’t move about a bit, who can?”
“Not a bit,” replied the Book without turning round. “I must improve my circulation somehow! And if a book of travels can’t move about a bit, who can, I should like to know?”
“Come along,” cried Tibbs (p. 19).
While Coppertop was wondering what reply to make, the Book reached out its hand and pulled the blind, which went up with such force that it twirled round and round the roller at the top.
“What a day for the first of December!” exclaimed the Book. “I’m going to look for something better,” and so saying, it sat on the floor and rapidly turned over its own pages, saying as it did so: