“Could you go up one of the back ways, and take off your shoes, and slip upstairs and up and up?” she said in a tremulous whisper.
“Oh, couldn’t we just!” said Rosie, her eyes nearly dancing out of her head.
“Then I think we can manage,” said Phyllis. “All my toys are upstairs in the big, very big, big attic; and there is the baby-house that I said perhaps you could have; and there are the dolls’ cups and saucers; and if only we could smuggle something to eat!”
“Something to eat!” cried Ned. “I can run back to the Rectory and bring a lot of things—a whole basketful. No one will know; Mother is at her cutting-out for the poor, and trumpets would not turn her attention. I can get the things—I can and I will.”
“We must not let Miss Fleet know; she’ll never, never think of looking for us in the attic,” said Phyllis, “and it is so big and so very far away from all the other rooms that we won’t be found; the only danger is your being seen when you bring the basket.”
“I will go straight away this very minute,” said Ned, “and you had better wait until I return.”
“I know something still better than that,” said Phyllis. “Why go to the Rectory? Why don’t you go to the village and buy things there—nice unwholesome curranty and doughy things?”
“Oh, I say, scrumptious!” cried Rosie. “I’ll go with him. No one will see us. But, oh, I say, Phyllis, we have not got a single brass farthing amongst us!”
Ralph’s face turned very red; he felt awfully ashamed of Rosie.
“But I have,” said Phyllis; “I always carry my purse about.” She opened it. “There is a five-shilling piece,” she said.