"They're called 'boggarts' in our part of the world," laughed Mavis, "and I suppose they talk dialect. There's a north-country story about a boggart--a creature something like a brownie--that lived at a farm, and was such a bother that the people thought they'd remove to get rid of him. They put all their furniture on a cart, and started out. They met a neighbour, who said to them: 'So thee's flittin'!' and the boggart popped its ugly little head out of the churn and said: 'Aye, we's flittin'!'. "The people were so disgusted to find that it intended to go with them to new quarters that they turned back to their old farm and decided to put up with the nuisance." "Ayah used to tell us Indian fairy tales," said Mamie, "but they were about princes and devas and lovely ladies." "There are fairy tales all over the world," said Miss Pollard, "and if we go on telling them we shall never stop. It's time for preparation now. You little people must run away, and the others must fetch their books. Mavis and Merle must come some time to have tea with us again." CHAPTER XII Pixie-led Next morning Merle got out of bed on the wrong side. She did it deliberately and with intention. It was a rather awkward business to achieve, too, for the beds were placed close together with only a few inches between them, and to make her left-handed exit she was obliged to scramble over the recumbent form of Mavis, who protested sleepily. "Don't care! Bags me first innings at the hot water," blustered Merle, bouncing down with a plump on to the rush mat in front of the wash-hand stand. "Don't care came to a bad end," quoted a dormouse voice among the blankets. "Right-o! I'm in for it." After such a shameless tempting of fate it was not to be wondered at that matters immediately turned in the direction of bad luck. Merle poured out a liberal half of the hot water which Jessop had brought, then seized up the toilet jug to add some cold. But either her hand was wet or she was careless, or some unseen imp actually intervened; anyhow, the handle slipped from her grasp, down fell the jug, breaking its spout, and the contents spread themselves over the floor. Anybody who has ever upset a bedroom jug must have been astonished at the enormous volume of water it contains. It seemed to Merle as if the bath had suddenly emptied itself. Streams and trickles were running everywhere, and the rush mat was a swamp. She stood staring at it in utter consternation. "Mop it up, you Judkins!" shrieked Mavis, now thoroughly awakened. "Why can't you mop it up? Goody, what a mess!"