ld
we have done if she hadn't packed up these things? Here's to Aunt Emma!"

And the toast was drunk in ginger wine and water, out of
willow-patterned tea-cups, because the glasses couldn't be found.

They all felt that they had been a little hard on Aunt Emma. She wasn't
a nice cuddly person like Mother, but after all it was she who had
thought of packing up the odds and ends of things to eat.

It was Aunt Emma, too, who had aired all the sheets ready; and the men
who had moved the furniture had put the bedsteads together, so the beds
were soon made.

"Good night, chickies," said Mother. "I'm sure there aren't any rats.
But I'll leave my door open, and then if a mouse comes, you need only
scream, and I'll come and tell it exactly what I think of it."

Then she went to her own room. Roberta woke to hear the little
travelling clock chime two. It sounded like a church clock ever so far
away, she always thought. And she heard, too, Mother still moving about
in her room.

Next morning Roberta woke Phyllis by pulling her hair gently, but quite
enough for her purpose.

"Wassermarrer?" asked Phyllis, still almost wholly asleep.

"Wake up! wake up!" said Roberta. "We're in the new house--don't you
remember? No servants or anything. Let's get up and begin to be useful.
We'll just creep down mouse-quietly, and have everything beautiful
before Mother gets up. I've woke Peter. He'll be dressed as soon as we
are."

So they dressed quietly and quickly. Of course, there was no water in
their room, so when they got down they washed as much as they thought
was necessary under the spout of the pump in the yard. One pumped and
the other washed. It was splashy but interesting.

"It's much more fun than basin washing," said Roberta. "How sparkly
the weeds are between the stones, and the moss on the roof--oh, and the
flowers!"

The roof of the back kitchen sloped down quite low. It was made
of thatch and it had moss on it, and house-leeks and stonecrop and
wallflowers, and even a clump of purple flag-flowers, at the far corner.

"This is far, far, far and away prettier than Edgecombe Villa," said
Phyllis. "I wonder what the garden's like."

"We mustn't think of the garden yet," said Roberta, with earnest energy.
"Let's go in and begin to work."

They lighted the fire and put the kettle on, and they arranged the
crockery for breakfast; they could not find all the right things, but
a glass ash-tray made an excellent salt-cell