It is a terrible thing to be locked out of your own house, on a dark, muggy January evening.
'There is no gas on anywhere,' said Jane, in a broken voice.
'I expect they've left the gas on once too often, and the draught blew it out, and they're suffocated in their beds.

Father always said they would some day,' said Robert cheerfully.
'Let's go and fetch a policeman,' said Anthea, trembling.
'And be taken up for trying to be burglars--no, thank you,' said Cyril.
'I heard father read out of the paper about a young man who got into his own mother's house, and they got him made a burglar only the other day.' 'I only hope the gas hasn't hurt the Phoenix,' said Anthea.

'It said it wanted to stay in the bathroom cupboard, and I thought it would be all right, because the servants never clean that out.

But if it's gone and got out and been choked by gas--And besides, directly we open the door we shall be choked, too.

I KNEW we ought to have gone to Aunt Emma, at Croydon.