‘There, there,’ said the Uncle gently, and not seeming as surprised as they expected; ‘don’t cry. Don’t _you_ begin,’ he added with more sternness to Charles, who was becoming subject to sniffs. ‘There, go and wash your faces. We’ll have some fresh tea made in another pot, and talk it over.’
‘It’s hopeful, I tell you,’ said Caroline, washing her face; ‘he’s not said “No.” Oh, I believe the spell’s working. Stop snivelling, Charlotte. There’s nothing to cry about, _yet_.’
‘I didn’t,’ said Caroline; ‘and if I did, you put it all on to me, and I didn’t know what I was saying or doing. Come on down. We mustn’t let him think it over by himself too long.’
Over tea, for which nobody felt very hungry, the Uncle asked many questions, and heard the full story of the escape and the Royal Order of the Secret Rose.
‘And don’t blame William, will you?’ Charlotte begged; ‘because he’s done nothing but say tell you ever since it began.’
‘I shall not blame William,’ said the Uncle.
‘I wanted to tell you,’ said Caroline; ‘at least next day I did, but it wasn’t my secret. And Rupert agreed for us to tell now.’
Tea was over and there was a silence. Uncle Charles was looking from one to another of the children.
‘And you really believed,’ he said slowly, ‘that putting that abominable stuff in my tea would make me agree to keep your runaway boy?’
‘There was the fern-seed, you know,’ said Charlotte; ‘and it said in the book that the decoction of balsam would make you grant our desire, and calceolaria’s as good as balsam any day.’
‘Won’t it?’ asked Caroline, and her eyes filled with tears. ‘Oh, uncle, if you only knew how I hated giving you that horrid stuff instead of your nice tea. It hurt me far more than it did you.’
The Uncle laughed faintly, but he did laugh.
‘Then you _will_ grant our desire,’ cried Charlotte. ‘You couldn’t laugh if you weren’t going to. So you see the herbs did do the magic.’
‘Something seems to have done it,’ said the Uncle. ‘You had better give me a red rose and two buds and enrol me as a member of your Royal Order of the Secret Rose.’ He found himself suddenly involved in a violent threefold embrace.
‘I will give you a word of advice,’ he said, settling his neck-tie when it was over. ‘Never try to administer philtres or potions _inwardly_. Outward application is quite as efficacious. Indeed I am not sure but what your bouquet was in itself enough to work the spell. Something has certainly worked it. For I may now tell you that Mrs. Wilmington had her suspicions, and by a stratagem surprised the secret this afternoon. She told me and wished to send for the Police. But I heard William’s story, and decided not to send for the Police till after tea. But now Mrs. Wilmington has seen the boy, you may as well make her a Royal Rose too. She will not betray you.’