down in a fit as likely as not. You'll have to put up with the
cold bacon for your dinners; and what on earth you've got your
outdoor things on for I don't know. And then I'll slip out and see
if they know anything about her at the police-station.'

But nobody ever knew anything about the cook any more, except the
children, and, later, one other person.


Mother was so upset at losing the cook, and so anxious about her,
that Anthea felt most miserable, as though she had done something
very wrong indeed. She woke several times in the night, and at
last decided that she would ask the Phoenix to let her tell her
mother all about it. But there was no opportunity to do this next
day, because the Phoenix, as usual, had gone to sleep in some
out-of-the-way spot, after asking, as a special favour, not to be
disturbed for twenty-four hours.

The Lamb never whooping-coughed once all that Sunday, and mother
and father said what good medicine it was that the doctor had given
him. But the children knew that it was the southern shore where
you can't have whooping-cough that had cured him. The Lamb babbled
of coloured sand and water, but no one took any notice of that. He
often talked of things that hadn't happened.

It was on Monday morning, very early indeed, that Anthea woke and
suddenly made up her mind. She crept downstairs in her night-gown
(it was very chilly), sat down on the carpet, and with a beating
heart wished herself on the sunny shore where you can't have
whooping-cough, and next moment there she was.