THE BOOK OF BETTY BARBER.
“With pleasure,” said Father William, and he bounded away through the wood, and disappeared out of sight in a few moments.
For quite two whole minutes not a word was spoken. Lucy sat down on the ground, and leaned against the tree, thinking. Half-term jumped down and sat beside her; then, at last, he broke the silence.
“Look here,” he said, “you chaps, cheer up. It will be all right. I will tell you one piece of good news: Paint Land is all right again, or soon will be.”
“Is it?” said Thirteen-fourteenths, raising his head.
“Indeed it is, and if you turn your head you will see the proof,” said Half-term.
“How do, everybody?” called a cheerful voice. And Miss Crimson Lake, looking as fresh as the freshest pink pink, and even pinker, came tripping down the path.
“Isn’t it grand?” she cried. “We are all happy again. Oh, there you are, you dear old Half-term. Well, did Father Christmas get home safely? What a charming old man he is, quite charming.”
“Was that Father Christmas who drove past us in the red cloak in the sleigh?” asked Minora.
“Of course it was,” said Half-term. ‘He had Santa Claus with him. We had been to Paint Land with fresh supplies.”
“Such piles of paint-boxes,” cried Miss Crimson Lake. “Such stacks of paint-brushes!”
“Yes, they did the thing pretty thoroughly whilst they were about it,” said Half-term.
“Well, well,” said Minora, “then things are not so bad, after all; and if I tell Queen Harmony that the book is in Nonsense Land”
“What book?” said Miss Crimson Lake. “Not the Book of Betty Barber? Why, what a capital place for it to be in!”
Thirteen-fourteenths shook his head.
“It is all very well,” he said, “I am glad you are better, Miss Crimson Lake, I am glad Lucy is out of Nonsense Land; but I
