“Saucepan, mugs, knives, forks, tea, sugar, milk,” said Susan, writing as hard as she could go.
“Spoons,” said Roger.
They kept remembering things and then getting stuck, and then remembering some more until there was no more room on the back of the telegram.
“I haven’t got another scrap of paper,” said John. “Even the Ship’s Articles have got sums on the other side. Bother the list. Let’s go and ask mother if we can have the key of the boathouse.”
But when they came to Holly Howe Farm, mother met them in the doorway with her finger on her lips.
“Vicky’s asleep,” she said; “don’t make a noise coming in. Supper’s just ready.”