"I don't know, dear," said her mother with a little sigh.
"I wish you could run about like us. That would make you so hot," said Carrots.
Mrs. Desart smiled. Just then her glance happened to fall on Floss's boots. "My dear child," she said, "those boots are really not fit to go out with. There's a great hole at the side of one of them."
"I know, mamma," said Floss, "but they're going to be mended. Nurse thinks they'll do a good while longer, if they're mended. I hope they will, for I know you always have so many new things to get when winter begins to come—haven't you, mamma?"
Mrs. Desart sighed again.
"I should have liked all your things to be so nice," she said, more as if speaking to herself than to Floss, "but it can't be helped."
Something in her tone caught Floss's attention.
"Why, mamma?" she asked, "why did you want our things to be so nice?"
"Because, dears, you may be going away from home," replied Mrs. Desart.
Floss and Carrots stared with astonishment. "Going away from home," Floss repeated, utterly unable to say more. Carrots could say nothing at all, he could only stare.