, like papa."

"Sailors have to kill people, too, sometimes," said Floss.

"_Have_ they?" said Carrots. Then he sat silent for a few minutes,
finding this new idea rather overwhelming. "Naughty people, do you mean,
Floss?" he inquired at last.

"Yes," said Floss, unhesitatingly, "naughty people, of course."

"But I don't like killing," said Carrots, "not killing naughty people, I
don't like. I won't be a soldier, and I won't be a sailor, and I won't
be a butcher, 'cos butchers kill lambs. Perhaps I'll be a fisherman."

"But fishermen kill fish," said Floss.

"Do they?" said Carrots, looking up in her face pathetically with his
gentle brown eyes. "I'm so sorry. I don't understand about killing,
Floss. I don't like it."

"I don't either," said Floss; "but perhaps it has to be. If there was no
killing we'd have nothing to eat."

"Eggs," said Carrots; "eggs and potatoes, and--and--cake?"

"But even that would be a _sort_ of killing," persisted Floss, though
feeling by no means sure that she was not getting beyond her depth, "if
we didn't eat eggs they would grow into chickens, and so eating stops
them; and potatoes have roots, and when they're pulled up they don't
grow; and cake has eggs in, and--oh I don't know, let's talk of
something else."

"What?" said Carrots, "Fairies?"

"If you like, or supposing we talk about when auntie comes and brings
'Sybil.'"

"Yes," said Carrots, "I like that best."

"Well, then," began Floss, "supposing it is late in the evening when
they come. _You_ would be in bed, Carrots, dear, but I would have begged
to sit up a little longer and----"

"No, Floss, that isn't nice. I won't talk about Sybil, if you make it
like that," interrupted Carrots, his voice sounding as if he were going
to cry. "Sybil isn't not any bigger than me. I wouldn't be in bed,
Floss."

"Very well, dear. Never mind, darling. I won't make it like that. It was
very stupid of me. No, Sybil and auntie will come just about our
tea-time, and we shall be peeping along the road to see if the carriage
from the station is coming, and when we hear it we'll run in, and
perhaps mamma will say we may stay in the drawing-room to see them. You
will have one of your new sailor suits on, Carrots, and I shall have my
white pique and blue sash, and nurse will have made the nursery
tea-table look so nice--with a clean table-cloth, you know, and quite
thin bread and butter, and jam, and, perhaps, eggs."

"I won't eat one," i