“You!” quoth John.
She laughed.
“We were afraid, so dreadfully afraid, lest you should decamp with the treasures,” said she. “I had the greatest difficulty in restraining these two from rushing to the rescue.”
“I thought I heard a sound!” ejaculated John.
“It was me,” said Michael. “I squeaked, but Aunt Rosamund held my mouf.”
“Then,” said John, “you are the fairies?”
“It is our cache,” quoth Antony magnificently.
“So I am beginning to perceive,” responded John. “But why, if I may ask without undue curiosity, is Molly in the matter? I imagined it was Molly. And, if all accounts be correct, she would appear hardly a subject for especial favours.”
Rosamund’s eyes danced. John had a mental image of sunlight suddenly sparkling on still waters.
“It is just,” she explained, “that she appears, as you say, hardly a subject for favours, that she gets them.”