WHAT THE WHITE OWL KNEW
Though they could only see Paint Land in the distance beneath them, they could see enough to guess that terrible things were happening.
“The Paint Lakes have disappeared, the water in the wells is all used up,” said Half-term. “I know there are no more brushes, for I used up the last this morning.”
“The children are painting with sticks,” said Thirteen-fourteenths, “and they are painting so carelessly—blue noses, red eyes, and green hair; and they are making such a mess, very soon all the soap in the world will be used up.”
“Dear, dear, dear,” said Half-term. “Let us go to Paint Land. I will fetch my sisters, they will help. The children must be stopped.”
Half-term began to climb down the tree, as quickly as he had climbed up it.
Thirteen-fourteenths followed slowly.
“It has gone too far,” he said, “the mischief is done; but we can destroy the book, and we will.”
Half-term was nearly down, when he suddenly stopped, and held up a warning finger to Thirteen-fourteenths.
“There’s somebody at the foot of the tree,” he whispered, “two somebodies, and they are searching for something, I think.”
“They are looking for the book,” whispered Thirteen-fourteenths. “How do they know I hid it there? Can you see who they are?”
“I can see a girl,” said Half-term, “but I never saw her before I don’t know who she is.”’
“But there’s Major C,” cried Thirteen-fourteenths. “Hurry up, old boy, we must talk to him, he may know something about Lucy.”
But in his eagerness to hurry Half-term slipped, there was a sound of crashing and cracking, and Half-term found himself tumbling down, down in the dark, inside the tree, instead of outside, to the great annoyance of Mrs. Owl, who flew at him and tried to strike him with her wings.
