It occurs to me here that there is some difficulty in proving a really useful moral from this tale, although I have almost boastfully referred to it as coming in due course for the instruction of my younger readers. For however reprehensible the children were in their disobedience and irresponsibility it cannot be denied that the general results of their conduct were beneficial. They were instrumental in bringing a swift finish to two persons who constituted a serious menace to the public. They had brought about the establishment of friendly relations between two countries, and removed doubts that had existed for centuries. Lastly, they had returned magnificently dressed and bearing expensive gifts. So perhaps the only definite moral that can be deduced is, if you by any chance meet an ogre who claims to be reformed, pretend to believe him until you have got a gun and then blow his head off at the first opportunity.
On their arrival at Watkyns Bay the other children crowded round Sylvia and Joe with cries of delight and admiration, for nothing more gorgeous had been seen even in a picture-book, and there was at this point some danger of the swollen-headedness which Miss Watkyns had dreaded. But she soon put it right by ordering them both to change into their plain but serviceable two-piece garments, and stating that the others should be kept for very special occasions, such as fancy-dress affairs. This, by the way, led to the institution of fancy-dress dances and caused a great deal of extra needlework and ironing.
Sylvia and Joe were very glad to get back to their little cots with the hop mattresses, and when at last they dropped off to sleep (very late, for there was a good deal of whispering because the other children wanted to hear more) lulled by the distant breaking of the sea and the light rubbing of cinnamon bears against the fence without, they felt very peaceful and happy and resolved to be really good for a reasonably long time.