“There’s a window up here, and I have just looked out,” said Dick, “it’s all pitch dark.”
“Yes,” murmured Marjorie; “Underground Railway to Crystal Palace; that’s how we went last time, you know—part of the way, at any rate—let’s go to sleep now. Good-night, Dick.”
“Good-night.”
“Nighty, nighty!” shouted Fidge.
“Good-night, Fidge, dear,” was his sister’s reply, in a very tired voice.
A moment afterwards the train gave a lurch, and there was a crash and a loud cry from one of the lower berths.
Dick hastily scrambled down to ascertain what was the matter, and found that the Dodo had tumbled out of bed.
“Bless my gloves and beak!” ejaculated the bird, as he picked himself up; “it’s enough to frighten one out of their lives, isn’t it?”
“Have you hurt yourself much?” inquired Dick, kindly.
“No; I don’t think so,” said the Dodo, carefully feeling himself all over to see if any bones were broken.