CHAPTER VII.
THE CASTLE OF THE SOUTH WIND
THE fact that the children were now so big helped them greatly on their journey; but they had to walk, as they were far too large and cumbersome to fly, their gauze wings would never carry them.
“Really, I’m very grateful to Mr. Atom,” said Coppertop; “what a wonderful little person he is.”
“Yes, it isn’t always size that counts,” came a tiny voice from a cloud near by, which she instantly recognised as belonging to Mr. Atom.
“Why, I believe he’s up here, too!” she cried.
“Quite right, my dear,” continued the small voice. “You see, I’m pretty well everywhere.”
“So am I,” replied Coppertop, who had mistaken his meaning, “except in India! Of course I love India terrifikly, because I’ve been there, and it’s nearly always warm and sunny; but people get so dried up—I know Mummie and Daddy do!”
“That’s why you call her Mummie, I suppose, instead of Mother?” interrupted Mr. Atom, with the sound of a smile in his voice.
“Not at all,” replied Coppertop; “I’ve always called her Mummie. But oh, I’m always well in Australia—it’s simply glorious! The paddocks and the scrumptious little gardens full of flowers; the birds—I know all their names—and the air smells so wonderful, it feels just like music when you breathe it.”
“Ah, yes, precisely,” said Mr. Atom.