'Some of it,' was the cautious reply.

Everyone now turned out its pockets on the lead roof of the tower,
where visitors for the last hundred and fifty years had cut their
own and their sweethearts' initials with penknives in the soft
lead. There was five-and-sevenpence-halfpenny altogether, and even
the upright Anthea admitted that that was too much to pay for four
peoples dinners. Robert said he thought eighteen pence.

And half-a-crown was finally agreed to be 'hand- some'.

So Anthea wrote on the back of her last term's report, which
happened to be in her pocket, and from which she first tore her own
name and that of the school, the following letter:


DEAR REVEREND CLERGYMAN,

We are very hungry indeed because of having to fly all day, and we
think it is not stealing when you are starving to death. We are
afraid to ask you for fear you should say 'No', because of course
you know about angels, but you would not think we were angels. We
will only take the nessessities of life, and no pudding or pie, to
show you it is not grediness but true starvation that makes us make
your larder stand and deliver. But we are not highwaymen by trade.


'Cut it short,' said the others with one accord. And Anthea
hastily added: