y, partially clothed.

"Look here," said Anthea, "we've all had such an odd dream. We've all
dreamed we found a Sand-fairy."

Her voice died away before Cyril's contemptuous glance.

"Dream?" he said; "you little sillies, it's _true_. I tell you it all
happened. That's why I'm so keen on being down early. We'll go up there
directly after brekker, and have another wish. Only we'll make up our
minds, solid, before we go, what it is we do want, and no one must ask
for anything unless the others agree first. No more peerless beauties
for this child, thank you. Not if I know it!"

The other three dressed, with their mouths open. If all that dream about
the Sand-fairy was real, this real dressing seemed very like a dream,
the girls thought. Jane felt that Cyril was right, but Anthea was not
sure, till after they had seen Martha and heard her full and plain
reminders about their naughty conduct the day before. Then Anthea was
sure.

"Because," said she, "servants never dream anything but the things in
the Dream-book, like snakes and oysters and going to a wedding--that
means a funeral, and snakes are a false female friend, and oysters are
babies."

"Talking of babies," said Cyril, "where's the Lamb?"

"Martha's going to take him to Rochester to see her cousins. Mother said
she might. She's dressing him now," said Jane, "in his very best coat
and hat. Bread-and-butter, please."

"She seems to like taking him too," said Robert in a tone of wonder.

"Servants _do_ like taking babies to see their relations," Cyril said;
"I've noticed it before--especially in their best clothes."

"I expect they pretend they're their own babies, and that they're not
servants at all, but married to noble dukes of high degree, and they say
the babies are the little dukes and duchesses," Jane suggested dreamily,
taking more marmalade. "I expect that's what Martha'll say to her
cousin. She'll enjoy herself most frightfully."

"She won't enjoy herself most frightfully carrying our infant duke to
Rochester," said Robert; "not if she's anything like me--she won't."

"Fancy walking to Rochester with the Lamb on your back!" said Cyril in
full agreement.

"She's gone by the carrier's cart," said Jane. "Let's see them off, then
we shall have done a polite and kindly act, and we shall be quite sure
we've got rid of them for the day."

So they did.

Martha wore her Sunday dress of two shades of purple, so tight in the
chest that it made her s