He kept out of the way and did not complain, but "mamma" and nurse and Floss did not need complaints to make them see that their little man was not quite himself, and they were extra kind to him.
There came just then some very dull rainy days, regular rainy days, not stormy, but to the children much more disagreeable than had they been so. For in stormy weather at the seaside there is too much excitement for anyone to think whether it is disagreeable or not—there is the splendid sight of the angry, troubled sea, there are the wonderful "storm songs" of the wind to listen to. Of course, as Carrots used to say, at such times it is "dedful" to think of the poor sailors; but even in thinking of them there is something that takes one's thoughts quite away from one's self, and one's own worries and troubles—all the marvellous stories of shipwreck and adventure, from Grace Darling to old Sinbad, come rushing into one's mind, and one feels as if the sea were the only part of the world worth living on.
But even at the seaside, regular, steady, "stupid" rainy days are trying. Carrots sat at the nursery window one of these dull afternoons looking out wistfully.
"Floss," he said, for Floss was sitting on the floor learning her geography for the next day, "Floss, it is so raining."
"I know," said Floss, stopping a minute in her "principal rivers of northern Europe." "I wish there wasn't so much rain, and then there wouldn't be so many rivers; or perhaps if there weren't so many rivers there wouldn't be so much rain. I wonder which it is!"
"Which beginned first—rivers or rain?" said Carrots, meditatively, "that would tell."
"I'm sure I don't know, and I don't believe anybody does," said Floss, going on again with her lesson. "Be quiet, Carrots, for one minute, and then I'll talk to you."
Carrots sat silent for about a minute and a half; then he began again.
"Floss," he said.
"Well," replied Floss, "I've very nearly done, Carrots."