Still faster she fell, and nearer and nearer came the sparkling ocean.
Just as she began to prepare for a splash, she fell PLOMP on to something soft and springy.
“Why, it’s a BED!” she cried. “MY bed!” and her eyes opened so widely with surprise that their lashes tangled with her eyebrows.
“My big four-posted bed!” she muttered, unable to believe it.
She crawled cautiously to the edge and peeped over, and found that the bed was floating, like an old Spanish galleon, upon the ocean.
“Well!” she exclaimed, “I’ve gone back to bed, but not the way that horrid old Clerk thought.” And then she flung herself down and hugged the bulgy pillow.
“Thank you, old Bed!” she cried, “thank you, just heaps and heaps!” And she almost wept with joy to find herself safe.
“Please don’t weep,” said a gentle, soothing voice, “it makes me damp, and damp beds are DANGEROUS!”
As it said this last word the voice became quite fierce, and so surprised Coppertop that she sat up and dried her eyes hastily. “But where are Tibbs and Kiddiwee?” she faltered. “I’m dreadfully unhappy about them.”
“Some folks are never happy unless they’re unhappy about something!” droned the voice, grown soft and almost feathery again. “They’ll be all right—boys always are. Just wait and see, my dearie, just wait and see.”