"These might have come from Fairyland," I said. "You know, Regina"—for she would make us call her so—"Gerald won't give up about you being a fairy; only when it came to packets of butter-scotch——"
"Even he couldn't believe there were butter-scotch manufactories in Fairyland," said she, laughing. And then we all laughed just because we were so happy.
"We've never laughed so much in our lives before, I don't think," said Tib.
"Poor little pets," said Regina, "it won't do you any harm. It should do the old house good too—it's many a long day since it heard any merry voices."
"The old house," said I; "what do you mean?"
"Why, the old house we're in—the place where you are. Where do you suppose yourself to be at this moment?" she asked, seeing I looked more and more puzzled.
"I don't know," I said. "We thought it was perhaps just this room, or else that it was a sort of a palace. We never thought of it as a regular house."
"A pavilion of some kind, I suppose you mean," said she.
"Why do you call it the old house? Is it very old?" asked Tib.
"Yes," said Regina, "it is. It has got into being called the old house because it is the oldest anywhere about, I suppose. And then, you see, when people haven't lived in a place for very, very long, they get into that way of speaking of it—out of a sort of affection—just as one speaks of the old days, you know, when one speaks of long ago."