"Yes, there's that," said Cyril, recovering himself. "They'll be all right. They'll howl till someone gets them down, or drop tiles into the front garden to attract the attention of passers-by. Bobs has got my one and five-pence--lucky you forgot to mend that hole in my pocket, Panther, or he wouldn't have had it. They can tram it home." But Anthea would not be comforted. "It's all my fault," she said. "I _knew_ the proper way to darn, and I didn't do it. It's all my fault. Let's go home and patch the carpet with your Etons--something really strong--and send it to fetch them." "All right," said Cyril; "but your Sunday jacket is stronger than my Etons. We must just chuck mother's present, that's all. I wish----" "Stop!" cried the Phoenix; "the carpet is dropping to earth." And indeed it was. It sank swiftly, yet steadily, and landed on the pavement of the Deptford Road. It tipped a little as it landed, so that Cyril and Anthea naturally walked off it, and in an instant it had rolled itself up and hidden behind a gate-post. It did this so quickly that not a single person in the Deptford Road noticed it. The Phoenix rustled its way into the breast of Cyril's coat, and almost at the same moment a well-known voice remarked:-- "Well, I never! What on earth are you doing here?" They were face to face with their pet uncle--their Uncle Reginald. [Illustration: "IN AN INSTANT IT HAD ROLLED ITSELF UP AND HIDDEN BEHIND A GATE-POST."] "We _did_ think of going to Greenwich Palace and talking about Nelson," said Cyril, telling as much of the truth as he thought his uncle could believe. "And where are the others?" asked Uncle Reginald. "I don't exactly know," Cyril replied, this time quite truthfully. "Well," said Uncle Reginald, "I must fly. I've a case in the County Court. That's the worst of being a beastly solicitor. One can't take the chances of life when one gets them. If only I could come with you to the Painted Hall and give you lunch at the Ship afterwards! But, alas! it may not be." The uncle felt in his pocket. "_I_ mustn't enjoy myself," he said, "but that's no reason why you shouldn't. Here, divide this by four, and the product ought to give you _some_ desired result. Take care of yourselves. Adieu." And waving a cheery farewell with his neat umbrella the good and high-hatted uncle passed away, leaving Cyril and Anthea to exchange eloquent glances over the shining golden sovereign that lay in Cyril's hand. "Well!" said Anthea. "Well!" said Cyril. "Well!" said the Phoenix. "Good old carpet," said Cyril, joyously. "It _was_ clever of it--so adequate and yet so simple," said the Phoenix, with calm approval. "Oh, come on home and let's mend the carpet. I am a beast. I'd forgotten the others, just for a minute," said the conscience-stricken Anthea.