"Our house is almost opposite the one with the air-garden," he said, "just a little bit further along. Yes, this one must be it." He hurried us up the steps and when we got to the front door gave it a little push. It yielded—it was open.
"You see," said Tom triumphantly, "you see I was right, Audrey."
But almost before he had said the words, Racey pulled us back.
"This idn't our house," he said, "it tannot be. Look, Audrey; look, Tom, this house has a' air-garden too."
He pointed above our heads, and looking up, Tom and I saw what in our hurried crossing the street we had not noticed—there was a conservatory on the first floor just like the one opposite!
"Come back, come back," I said. "This isn't our house. Perhaps the people will be angry with us for pushing the door open."
But it was too late—the door had been a little open before we touched it, for there were people standing in the hall just inside, and one of them, an errand boy, was coming out, when the push Tom had given caught their attention. The door was pulled wide open from the inside and we saw plainly right into the brightly-lighted hall. A man-servant came forward to see who we were—or what we were doing.
"Now get off the steps you there," he said roughly. "My lady can't have beggars loitering about."
Frightened as we were, Tom's indignation could not be kept down.
"We're not beggars, you rude man," he cried, "we thought this was our house, and—and—" he could say no more, poor little boy—for all his manliness he was only a very little boy, you know—the tears would not be kept back any longer, he burst out sobbing, and immediately he heard Tom's crying Racey of course began too. I did not know what to do— I threw my arms round them and tried to comfort them. "Don't cry, dears," I said, "we'll go back to the chemist's, and he'll show us the way home. And nobody shall scold you, I don't care what they say to me."