"You'd better go to sleep now, then," said Mrs. Fisher, wisely, "if you want to be bright and ready really to see much of Holland in the morning, Polly."
"That's so," answered Polly, ducking back her head to its pillow, and wriggling her toes in satisfaction; "Phronsie is asleep already, isn't she, Mamsie?"
"Yes," said Mrs. Fisher, "she dropped off as soon as her head touched the pillow. Good night, Polly, you would better do the same."
"Good night, Mamsie," said Polly, with a sleepy little yawn, "and good night, dear Mrs. Henderson," she added, already almost in dreamland.
VII
OFF FOR HOLLAND
It seemed to Polly as if she had only breathed twice, and had not turned over once, when there was Mamsie's voice calling her, and there was Mamsie's face looking into hers over the edge of the berth. "Wake up, Polly, child, you have only about ten minutes to dress in."
"O dear me! what—where?" exclaimed Polly, springing to a sitting position, thereby giving her brown head a smart thump on the ceiling of the berth, "where are we, Mamsie? why, it is the middle of the night, isn't it?" she cried, not stopping to pity her poor head.
"We are almost at the Hook of Holland," said Mrs. Fisher, busily buttoning Phronsie's shoes. Phronsie sat on the lower berth, her sleepy little legs dangling over the edge, and her sleepy little head going nid-nodding, despite all her efforts to keep herself awake.
"O dear me!" cried Polly, remorsefully, when she saw that. "I ought to have dressed Phronsie. Why didn't you wake me up earlier, Mamsie?"