"Tom," I said, "there's the stamp to get. You'd have to go into a shop and ask for one."
Tom's countenance fell. This difficulty had more weight with him than if I had gone on saying he was too little, though even without the getting of the stamp I could not have let him go alone. "He might be run over or stolen or something dreadful," I thought, "and it would be my fault. Oh no, he mustn't go alone." But I felt as if he would be quite safe if I went with him, though I dare say this must seem rather absurd, for I was really not very much older or bigger than Tom, and of course I knew no more about London.
"I wouldn't like that," he said. Then his face brightened up again. "Let's both go, Audrey," he exclaimed; "that would be far the best."
But before I had time to reply, a cry from Racey startled us.
"You must take me too," he said. "I won't stay here all alone. P'raps the new nurse'll come and whip me."
He really seemed as if he were going to set off on a regular crying fit, which would have spoilt all. And the precious time was fast slipping away.
"Tom, you're sure it's very near," I said, "the post-box I mean?"
"Vrezy near—just round the corner," said Tom.
"Well then we'd better all go," I said. "I'll run up-stairs and bring down your hats and comforters, and I'll get my hat and old jacket and we'll all go. Now you two be quite quiet while I go up-stairs."
I knew I could go with less noise and far more quickly than Tom, and in less than two minutes I was back again. I tied on Racey's comforter and hat, and Tom put on his own. Then we were all ready—but, oh dear, how could we get the big front door open without noise? I quite trembled as I stood up on tip-toe to turn the lock handle. But after all it was a very well-behaved door. It opened at once without the least creak or squeak, and in another moment the boys and I stood on the steps outside. Tom was going to shut the door, but I stopped him. "It would make such a noise," I said, "and besides we'd much better leave it open to get in again."