Meantime, if only to try and pacify the Easter Chicken, they began to hunt about for Tubby.
They looked behind the sofa cushions, and under the sideboard, even inside the coal scuttle itself, but there was no Tubby to be seen. High and low they searched, calling her, but it was all no use. Now indeed they began to get alarmed.
“She’s doing it on purpose,” said Virginia May, trying not to feel frightened. “It’s all because we made fun of her writing letters to Bulka.”
“I wish Poor Cecco were here!” said Harlequin sadly. And Anna began to snivel. “Things always seem to go wrong when Poor Cecco’s away!”
No use wishing for Poor Cecco! They must do their best without him. All the rest of that night, led by Harlequin and the Lion, they hunted and called. They even turned back the carpet and poked out the cracks in the kitchen floor with hairpins. There was no trace of Tubby anywhere, except a few torn scraps of paper behind the coal scuttle.
It was a very dejected party that gathered in the toy-cupboard next morning. Never before had Tubby remained hidden so long. And though Gladys and Anna still maintained she had only gone to Tubbyland, the rest of them began to feel certain by now that something had happened. As for the Easter Chicken, he had sobbed himself to sleep long ago.
