"Phyllis, you naughty, naughty child! what is the matter? and Effie too! Why, what does it mean?" Jennie cried.
"They were pretty nigh to being lost, miss," the policeman said, gravely. "'Tis a good thing you happened to come this way."
Donald thanked the man very heartily, and took charge of the children. He had not the heart to scold them yet.
Phyllis walked home with a heart full of tumult. Directly she was safely indoors she burst out crying, and said, "I do not like London: it is a horrid, dreadful, ugly place, and no beautiful things at all; and, oh, I do want to go home!"
"Be quiet, little stupid!" Jennie said, shortly, giving her a push and a shake.
"It's horrible," persisted Phyllis. "We can't live here. We must go home."
Jennie threw herself down on a chair by the bedside, and began to cry too. "It isn't half as bad for you, Phyllis, as it is for me," she cried, crossly; "and we can't go back. We must live in one of these pokey, dingy houses for ever and ever. If only I'd known what it was like!"
By-and-by their mother came home, and was amazed to see the change that had come over the children. Still, she was able to console them a little by telling them that London would look very different when the fog was gone, and that they would have by-and-by a nice quiet house, with a little garden; but their old home was out of the question. That was gone for ever. They must learn to be cheerful and content.
What a hard lesson it was at first! but dear me, after a while the children grew quite happy, although they never found the enchanted city.
But they found something better, after a short time, and that was a kind, bright, happy, cheerful home, and that is what can make any spot in the world beautiful, while without it, even an enchanted city would be but drear and lonely. No wonder Phyllis and Jennie felt miserable during those first days in London. Their parents were feeling it much more keenly, though they said nothing.