'Mercy! What a lot of little catapults!' said she. The day was cold, for it was nearly autumn, and she threw off her coat, not caring how dreadfully distracting it was to Freddy. He bore it well, though, and left the most fascinating bobble untouched lest she should feel neglected.
'Where is Zobeide?' she said suddenly. 'Mary! Mary!' for Mary had bolted.
'I simply cannot rest till I find Zobeide,' she muttered, going to cupboard doors and opening them. 'The darling! Where is she, Mary? Mary!'
It is always the way. She had got us, but people always want the one they haven't got, and then take not the slightest interest in the ones that have been good and stayed at home; for, of course, as every one knew, Zobeide was up to no good when she got herself stolen. Auntie May got quite mad with anxiety, and opened the door of her room and met Mary on the threshold.
'Mary, please, where is Zobeide?'
'Lost, Miss. Mr. Fox have called.'
Auntie May banged the door and went down to see Mr. Fox. I suppose Mary told her about Zobeide on the way downstairs, that is if she cared any more to listen. People are so funny!