The storm had slackened by this time and old Jingles went to the window. “They cannot have gone far!” he said as he shook his fist at the black clouds disappearing in the distance, “and no matter how far they have gone, I will catch up with them when my Magic Whistle dries! And then they had better be careful!”
As the rain of ink had now ceased, the Magician went to the door and looked out. “I hope it will dry up soon,” he said, “so that I can catch up with them!” And he walked out of the house.
“What had we better do?” Gran’ma asked.
“We had best stay where we are for a while,” Gran’pa replied, “for evidently the ink rain has covered our tracks and he will not be able to find us, so he will go on and we can follow him.”
“I must hasten to the City of Nite,” cried the Princess, “and try to regain my throne. My subjects were so happy when I was there—oh, dear, I wonder how it will all turn out!”
“Perhaps the Little Old Lady can suggest something for us to do,” Janey said.
The Little Old Lady thought a while and then said, “I believe it will be as well for all of you to stay here for a time. That will throw Jingles off the track. I will run over to my brothers and ask their advice. I think it would be as well for all of you to stay in this room, meanwhile, in case the Magician should return!”
Then the Little Old Lady went down a back stairway and out of the door.
“If I had known what trouble we should get into, I should never have built the Flying Machine!” said Johnny.
“Do not take all the blame, Johnny,” said his sister, “for it was I who thought of most of it and then we really did not know it would fly!”