his concern, and if he had known the truth that
Denny had made a mistake of an hour, and that it was only half-past five
instead of half-past six, he would not have thought much about it.

He got to the pantry at last. It was darker in here than in the passage
outside, which was a disappointment. The shutters were shut, that was
the reason, and when Baby looked up at them and saw how strong and
barred they were, even _he_ felt that it would be no use to try to open
them. He climbed up on to the dresser that ran round one side of the
wall to see better. Yes, there it was--the tiny, sweet, little
t'unk--just as he had been fancying it. Not so very high up either. If
he could but give it a little poke out he could almost reach it down--it
could not be heavy, it was _such_ a tiny t'unk; and, oh, if he could
carry it out to the passage, where it was light, how beautifully he
could look at it! He stood up on tiptoe, and found he could almost reach
it. A brush with a sticking-out handle was lying beside him. Baby took
it, and found that by poking it in a little behind the box he could make
it move out, and if it were moved out a very little way he could reach
to lift it down. He moved it out enough, then he stretched up his two
hands to lift it down--it was not very heavy, but still rather heavier
than he had thought. But with the help of his curly head, which he
partly rested it on, he got it out safely enough, and was just slipping
it gently downwards to the dresser when _somehow_ the brush handle,
which he had left on the shelf, caught him or the box, he could not tell
which, and, startled by the feeling of something pushing against him,
Baby lost his balance and fell! Off the dresser right down on to the
hard floor, which had no carpet even to make it softer, he tumbled, and
the little t'unk on the top of him. What a noise it made--even in the
middle of his fright Baby could not help thinking what a tremendous
noise he and the box seemed to make. He lay still for a minute; luckily
the box, though it had come straight after him, had fallen a little to
one side, and had not hit him. He was bruised enough by the floor
already--any more bumps would have been _too_ much, would they not? But
the poor box itself was to be pitied; it had come open in the fall, and
all that was in it had naturally tumbled out. _That_ explained the noise
and clatter. The box had held--indeed it had been made on purpose to
hold them--two beautiful gla