's a tired little boy. I think it's because he's so tired that
he's so sad about going away," said mother. "Think, dear, how nice it is
that we're all going _together_, not Celia or Fritz or anybody left
behind. For you know Thomas has his old mother he wouldn't like to
leave, and Jones has his wife and children. And if the rabbits could
talk, I'm quite sure they would tell you that they'd far rather stay
here in their own nice little house, with plenty of cabbages, than be
bundled into a box and taken away in the railway ever so far, without
being able to run about for ever so many days."

Baby's face cleared a little.

"Betsy has p'omised," he said to himself. Then he added, "_Him_ won't
like the railway neither if it's like that."

"But _him's_ not going to be put in a box or a basket," said mother,
laughing. "Him will have a nice little corner all to himself in a
cushioned railway carriage, only just now he really _must_ go to bed."

So she kissed him for good-night, and Denny too, who, by this time, had
recovered her good-humour in the interest of listening to the
conversation between her mother and Herr Baby, and soon both little
sister and brother were fast asleep in their cots, dreaming about the
journey before them I daresay, or perhaps forgetting all about it in the
much queerer and stranger journeys that small people are apt to fly away
upon at night, when their tired little bodies _seem_ to be lying quite
still and motionless in bed.

It was strange enough--_almost_ as strange as a dream--the next morning
when, long before it was light, they had all to get up and be dressed at
once in their going-out things--that is to say their thick boots and
gaiters, and woollen under-jackets (for it was very cold, though not yet
far on in November), while their ulsters and comforters and caps, and
the girls' sealskin coats and muffs and hats, were all laid out in four
little heaps by Lisa, so that they should be ready to put on the moment
breakfast was over.

What a funny breakfast! Candles on the table, for it was not, of course,
worth while to light the lamp, and everything looking more like a sort
of "muddley tea," Fritz said, than their usual trim nursery breakfast.

"I can't eat," said Fritz, throwing down his bread and butter; "it's no
use."

"And there's eggs!" said Denny, who was comfortably at work at hers,
looking across at Fritz as if it wouldn't be very difficult to eat up
his egg too. "I think it's