"Go back, Peter," she
ordered.
"I can't," came a little voice out of the gloom.
"You must--oh, Peter, hurry!"
"I can't go back," said Peter calmly, "because there isn't any back.
Put your hand behind me and feel."
It was true. Just how or when it had happened none of them could tell,
but the soft drooping bedcovers had suddenly, mysteriously risen and
spread into firm white walls behind and on either side, leaving only a
narrow passageway open in front. It was nonsense to go on their hands
and knees any longer, for even Rudolf, who was tallest, could not
touch the arched white roof when he stood up and stretched his arm
above his head. He could not see Ann's face clearly, but he could hear
her beginning to sniff.
"Now, Ann," said he sternly, though in rather a weak voice, "don't you
know what this is? This is an adventure."
"I don't care," sniffed Ann, "I don't want an adventure. I want to go
back--back to Aunt Jane!" And the sniff developed into a flood of
tears.
"Peter is not crying, and he is only six."
This rebuke told on Ann, for she was almost eight. "But what are we
go--going to do?" she asked, her sobs decreasing into sniffs again.
"We'll just have to go on, I suppose, and see what happens."
"Well, I think--I think Aunt Jane ought to be ashamed of herself to
put us in such a big bed we could get lost in it!"
"Maybe"--came the voice of Peter cheerfully from behind them--"maybe
she _wanted_ to lose us, like bad people does kittens.
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