She did come at us with her broom-handle as she spoke, and even the
boldest turned and fled. Oswald was even the boldest. 'They
looked like weeds right enough,' he said.

And Dicky said, 'It all comes of trying to do golden deeds.' This
was when we were out in the road.

As we went along, in a silence full of gloomy remorse, we met the
postman. He said--

'Here's the letters for the Moat,' and passed on hastily. He was
a bit late.

When we came to look through the letters, which were nearly all for
Albert's uncle, we found there was a postcard that had got stuck in
a magazine wrapper. Alice pulled it out. It was addressed to Mrs
Simpkins. We honourably only looked at the address, although it is
allowed by the rules of honourableness to read postcards that come
to your house if you like, even if they are not for you.

After a heated discussion, Alice and Oswald said they were not
afraid, whoever was, and they retraced their steps, Alice holding
the postcard right way up, so that we should not look at the
lettery part of it, but only the address.

With quickly-beating heart, but outwardly unmoved, they walked up
to the white cottage door.

It opened with a bang when we knocked.