"Me, Aunt Beryl?" Kezia stared at her. What had she done now? She had
only dug a river down the middle of her porridge, filled it, and was eating
the banks away. But she did that every single morning, and no one had said
a word up till now.

"Why can't you eat your food properly like Isabel and Lottie?" How unfair
grown-ups are!

"But Lottie always makes a floating island, don't you, Lottie?"

"I don't," said Isabel smartly. "I just sprinkle mine with sugar and put
on the milk and finish it. Only babies play with their food."

Stanley pushed back his chair and got up.

"Would you get me those shoes, mother? And, Beryl, if you've finished, I
wish you'd cut down to the gate and stop the coach. Run in to your mother,
Isabel, and ask her where my bowler hat's been put. Wait a minute--have
you children been playing with my stick?"

"No, father!"

"But I put it here." Stanley began to bluster. "I remember distinctly
putting it in this corner. Now, who's had it? There's no time to lose.
Look sharp! The stick's got to be found."

Even Alice, the servant-girl, was drawn into the chase. "You haven't been
using it to poke the kitchen fire with by any chance?"

Stanley dashed into the bedroom where Linda was lying. "Most extraordinary