A SEIGE AND BED
changes with it except the water, and that happens to fall on somebody else's clean cap.
"I don't know why the water didn't change into nothing, though," said Cyril.
"Why should it?" asked Robert. "Water's water all the world over."
"I expect the castle well was the same as ours in the stable-yard," said Jane. And that was really the case.
"I thought we couldn't get through a wishday without a row," said Cyril; "it was much too good to be true. Come on, Bobs, my military hero. If we lick into bed sharp she won't be so furious, and perhaps she'll bring us up some supper. I'm jolly hungry! Goodnight, kids."
"Good-night. I hope the castle won't come creeping back in the night," said Jane.
"Of course it won't," said Anthea briskly, "but Martha will—not in the night, but in a minute. Here, turn round, I'll get that knot out of your pinafore strings."
"Wouldn't it have been degrading for Sir Wulfric de Talbot," said Jane dreamily, "if
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