"Now then," said he, "what are you doing here? Don't you know this is
my busy night? Who are you, anyway? Not on my list, I'll warrant.
Who's dreams are you?"

"Nobody's," began Rudolf. "The Corn-cob Queen sent us to see if you
could tell us any way to get back to our Aunt Jane--"

"Nobody's?" interrupted the little man. "Did you say you were Nobody's
dreams? Don't see him in the N's." And he took a printed list out of
his pocket and ran his eye anxiously over it. "Are you sure--"

"Please, he means we're not dreams," said Ann, stepping forward, "at
least we don't think so." She hesitated a second and then added: "It
depends on what happens to them. Are these all dreams?"

"All perfectly Good Dreams, or my name's not Sandman," answered the
baggy fellow briskly. "We don't handle the Bad Ones here, not us!"

Peter looked interested. "Where does the Bad Ones live?" he asked. "I
wants to see them."

The Sandman shook his head at Peter. "Oh, no, you don't, little boy,"
he said. "No, you don't! Don't you go meddling in their direction or
you'll get into trouble, take my word for it. They live way off in the
woods and they're a bad lot. They've got a worse boss than old Sandy!
No, no;--the good kind are trouble enough for me. What with the hurry
and the flurry and the general mix-up, something a little off color
will slip in now and then. Everybody makes mistakes _sometimes_!"

As he made this last remark Sandy cast a doubtful look at the False
Hare, who grinned and tipped his silk hat to him.

"I told Sandy _all_ about myself," said the False Hare, winking at the
children. "I told him I was just as good as I could be!"

The children could not help laughing. "I'm afraid you don't know him
as well as we do, Mr. Sandy," said Ann.

"Oh, I know about as much as I want to know about him," said Sandy,
pretending to frown very fiercely. "I've almost made up my mind to get
rid of him, but the truth is I don't really know just where he
belongs."

"Doesn't matter to _me_ whether I spend the night with a bald-headed
old gentleman or a bird-dog--all the same to _me_," said the False
Hare meekly. This speech sounded so like him that the children looked
at one another and burst out laughing again, at which the False Hare
gave a kind of solemn wink, sighed, and touched his eyes with a little
paper handkerchief he held gracefully in one paw.

The Sandman turned his back on the silly fellow, and went on with his
explanations t