BY LAND AND SEA

"So the wind blew softly,
And the sun shone bright."

Grandfather had fixed that it would be best to go straight through at once to the seaport, where, the next morning, they would find the 'normous boat waiting to take them over the sea. They had to pass through London on the way, and, by the time they got to the big London station, Baby was very tired—so white and quiet that mother was a little frightened.

"I almost wish," she said, "that we had fixed to stay all night in London. Baby has never had a long railway journey before, since he was a real Baby, you know, and he is not very strong."

She was speaking to auntie. It was just when they were getting near the big London station. Auntie looked at Baby. He was lying on Lisa's knee with his eyes shut, as if he were asleep, but he wasn't. He heard what they said, and he was rather pleased at them talking about him. In some ways he was very fond of being made a fuss about.

"He does look a little white shrimp," said auntie. "But then you know, May, he is so fair. He looks more quickly white if he is tired than other children. And he has been such a good little man all day—not one bit of trouble. He is really a capital traveller—ever so much quieter than the others."

She said these last few words in a low tone, not caring for the other children to hear; but if she had spoken quite loud I don't think they would have heard, and, indeed, it seemed as if they wanted to show that auntie's words were true; for just at that moment there came such a scream from Denny that everybody started up in a fright.

What could be the matter? everybody asked.

"It's all Denny," said Fritz, in a great fuss.

"It's not; it's all Fritz and Celia," said Denny.