Horrid thing, I hate her!' 'I wish Mrs Biddle was in an angelic good temper,' cried Anthea, suddenly.

'It's worth trying,' she said to herself.
Mrs Biddle's face grew from purple to violet, and from violet to mauve, and from mauve to pink.

Then she smiled quite a jolly smile.
'Why, so I am!' she said, 'what a funny idea! Why shouldn't I be in a good temper, my dears.' Once more the carpet had done its work, and not on Mrs Biddle alone.

The children felt suddenly good and happy.
'You're a jolly good sort,' said Cyril.

'I see that now.