"I can't," said Fritz, "I've got a horrid feeling just like when mother took me to have that big tooth out. I feel all shaky and cruddley."
"Yes, I know," said Denny, going on with her breakfast all the same, "but eating's the best thing to make it go away. I felt just that way the day I broke grandfather's hotness measure, and mother said I must tell him myself. I couldn't eat a bit of dinner, and I sat on the stair all screwged up, waiting for him to go to the study."
"How dedful!" said Baby, with great feeling. But neither Fritz nor Celia seemed to think much of Denny's sufferings. No one had ever seen her nerves disturbed, and they did not therefore much believe in her having any.
"Grandfather's what did you say?" asked Celia.
"His hotness measure—the little glass pipe thing with a blob that goes up and down. He's got another now, you know."
"You mean his thermometer; you really should learn the proper names of things," said Celia, "you're quite big enough."
Denny would probably not have taken this in good part, though the "quite big enough" at the end was very much to her taste, but there was no time this morning for squabbling.
"Quick, quick, mine children," said Lisa, "the cart with the luggage is 'way, and the Herr Grandpapa is buttoning his coat."
"And Fritz hasn't eaten his egg!" said Denny, eyeing it dolefully, as Lisa was fastening her jacket.
"I couldn't," said Fritz. "There'll be sandwiches or something in the train—sure to be. Now come on; let's see what have I got to look after. Only Tim and Peepy-Snoozle. I couldn't lose my satchel, you see, for its strapped on me. Much more sensible than girls, who have to carry their bags over their arms."