tears, and Cyril turned the table wrong way up on top of the carpet
heap. But the firework went on, banging and bursting and
spluttering even underneath the table.

Next moment mother rushed in, attracted by the howls of Anthea, and
in a few moments the firework desisted and there was a dead
silence, and the children stood looking at each other's black
faces, and, out of the corners of their eyes, at mother's white
one.

The fact that the nursery carpet was ruined occasioned but little
surprise, nor was any one really astonished that bed should prove
the immediate end of the adventure. It has been said that all
roads lead to Rome; this may be true, but at any rate, in early
youth I am quite sure that many roads lead to BED, and stop
there--or YOU do.

The rest of the fireworks were confiscated, and mother was not
pleased when father let them off himself in the back garden, though
he said, 'Well, how else can you get rid of them, my dear?'

You see, father had forgotten that the children were in disgrace,
and that their bedroom windows looked out on to the back garden.
So that they all saw the fireworks most beautifully, and admired
the skill with which father handled them.

Next day all was forgotten and forgiven; only the nursery had to be
deeply cleaned (like spring-cleaning), and the ceiling had to be
whitewashed.