“I say, I never thought of that. How simply ripping if it turned out to be really Sabrina—wouldn’t it be? But which do you suppose could be her—the one who spoke to us or the one she’s afraid will die in captivity—the one she wants us to save.” They had reached the shore by now and Mavis looked up from turning her brown stockings right way out to say: “I suppose we didn’t really both fancy it. Could we have? Isn’t there some sort of scientific magic that makes people think the same things as each other when it’s not true at all, like with Indian mango tricks? Uncle Fred said so, you know, they call it ‘Tell-ee-something.’” “I’ll tell _you_ something,” said Francis, urgent with shoelace, “if we keep on saying things weren’t when we know perfectly well they were, we shall soon dish up any sort of chance of magic we may ever have had. When do you find people in books going on like that? They just say ‘This is magic!’ and behave as if it was. They don’t go pretending they’re not sure. Why, no magic would stand it.” “Aunt Dorothea once told me that all magic was like Prince Rupert’s drop,” Mavis owned: “if once you broke it there was nothing left but a little dust.” “That’s just what I’m saying, isn’t it? We’ve always felt there was magic right enough, haven’t we? Well, now we’ve come across it, don’t let’s be silly and pretend. Let’s believe in it as hard as ever we can. Mavis—shall we, eh? Believing in things makes them stronger. Aunt Dorothea said that too—you remember.” They stood up in their shoes. “Shall we tell the others?” Mavis asked. “We must,” said Francis, “it would be so sneakish not to. But they won’t believe us. We shall have to be like Cassandra and not mind.” “I only wish I knew who it is we’ve got to save,” said Mavis. Francis had a very strong and perfect feeling that they would know this all in good time. He could not have explained this, but he felt it. All he said was, “Let’s run.” And they ran. Kathleen and Bernard met them at the gate, dancing with excitement and impatience. “Where have you been?” they cried and “What on earth?” and “Why, you’re all wet, France.” “Down to the sea—shut up, I know I am—” their elder brother came in and passed up the path to the gate. “You might have called us,” said Kathleen in a more-in-sorrow-than-in-anger sort of voice, “but anyhow you’ve lost something by going out so early without us.” “Lost something. What?” “Hearing the great news,” said Bernard, and he added, “Aha!” “What news?” “Wouldn’t you like to know?” Bernard was naturally annoyed at having been left out of the first expedition of the holidays. Anyone would have. Even you or I. “Out with it,” said Francis, with a hand on Bernard’s ear. There came a yell from Bernard and Mother’s voice from the window, saying, “Children, children.” “All right, Mummy. Now, Bear—don’t be a young rotter. What’s the news?” “You’re hurting my ear,” was all Bernard’s rejoinder.