But as there were no wheels, and as the pillar seemed stuck in the ground as firm as a rock, we could not explain the mystery.
"Now," said I, "let's run across again and find our house. It must be just about opposite."
We crossed the street and went along slowly, peeping at every house we passed in search of some sign by which we would know it. We had left the door the tiniest little bit ajar you will remember—and two or three times when we saw a house which we fancied looked just like Uncle Geoff's, we went up the steps and gently pushed to see if the door was open. But no—none of them were, and beginning to be really frightened we returned to the pavement and considered what we should do.
"I don't understand it," I said, "we must have passed it. It wasn't above five or six houses from the street we turned, down, where the pillar-post was."
"But, Audrey," said Tom, "p'raps we came up another street by mistake, 'cause you know we couldn't find the pillar coming back. Let's go back a little and see if we don't come to the street where it is, and then we'll know."
It seemed the only thing to do—it was quite, quite dark of course by now—the only light was from the gas-lamps, which in this street did not seem very bright. It was very cold—we were all three beginning to shiver, because, you see, running out as we thought just for five minutes we had not wrapped up very warmly. It was worst for the boys, who had nothing besides the sailor suits they always wore, except their comforters and caps, though I had my jacket. And to add to our troubles it began to rain, a miserable, fine, cold rain, which seemed to freeze as well as to wet us. I was so unhappy that it was all I could do not to cry.
"The boys will get cold," I said to myself. "And mother said we must be very careful of cold for Tom this winter as he had the measles so badly. Oh dear, what shall we do! If I could see anybody, I would ask them to help us to find the way back to Uncle Geoff's."
But just then there was no one in sight, and I was thinking whether it would not be best to try to find our way back to the friendly chemist and ask him to help us, when Tom called out suddenly:
"Audrey, we've got on the wrong side of the street. Look, the next house is the one with what Racey calls an air-garden."
I looked and saw the little glass conservatory he pointed out. It belonged to the house next to the one we were passing. I didn't feel satisfied— I couldn't see how we could have got on the wrong side of the street, for we had certainly kept in a right direction, but Tom was so sure, I didn't like to contradict him. And he pulled Racey and me across the street almost before I had time to consider.