Dreamikins was very grave. She sat in a little cushioned chair of her own by Fibo's side.
"If it wasn't for you, Fibo dear," she said, "I should be rolling and kicking on the floor in a—an—agony!"
"Yes," said Freda mournfully, "that's just it; you've got Fibo, and we haven't. We're much worse off than you are."
"But you have each other," said Dreamikins. "I'm only a one, not a two."
"You've got your angels to talk to," said Daffy.
Dreamikins put her head on one side and considered.
"I think," she said slowly, "that I'm getting rather tarred of Er. He's too heavy and grave."
"Oh," cried Freda protestingly, "you haven't had him any time; you get tired so quickly!"
"Well, I'll see. I won't send him away to-day. I'll write a letter and tell you when I do."
"That's the only thing we can do—write letters," said Daffy; "and they are so difficult to write. I expect you'll forget all about us, Dreamikins, when we're away."