"I'm not, mother," said Ted cheerily,--"I'm not really, for you know I
am _second_, and that's not bad, is it? Considering I was away and all
that."

And his mother felt pleased at the boy's good sense and fair judgment of
himself--for there had sometimes seemed a danger of Ted's entire want of
vanity making him too timid about himself.

What a happy day it was for Ted and Cissy when the real packing began
for the summer expedition! It's an ill wind that blows nobody any good,
and I suppose it is by this old saying explained how it is that packing,
the horror of mothers and aunts and big sisters, not to speak of nurses
and maids, should be to all small people the source of such delight.

"See, Ted," said Cissy, "do let's carry down some of these boxes.
There's the one with the sheets and towels in, _quite_ ready," and the
children's mother coming along the passage and finding them both tugging
with all their might at really a very heavy trunk, was reminded of the
day--long ago now--in the mountain home, when, setting off for the
picnic, wee Ted wanted so much to load himself with the heaviest basket
of all!

And at last, thanks no doubt to these energetic efforts in great part,
the packing was all done; the last evening, then the last night came,
and the excited children went to sleep to wake ever so much earlier than
usual to the delights of thinking _the_ day had come!

It was a long and rather tiring railway journey, and when it came to an
end there was a very long drive in an open carriage, and by degrees all
houses and what Ted's father called "traces of civilisation,"--which
puzzled Cissy a good deal--were left behind.

"We must be getting close to the moors," said he, at which the children
were delighted, for it was on the edge of these great moors that stood
the lonely farm-house that was to be their home for some months. But
just as their father said this, the carriage stopped, and they were told
they must all get down--they were at the entrance to a wood through
which there was no cart or carriage road, only a footpath, and the
farm-house stood in a glen some little way on the other side of this
wood. It was nearly dark outside the wood, inside it was of course still
more so, so dark indeed that it took some care and management to find
one's way at all. The children walked on quietly, Ted really enjoying
the queerness and the mystery of this adventure, but little Narcissa,
though she said nothing, pre