that, mother? Any way you'll be home before our birthdays."

For, rather funnily, all our three birthdays came close together--all in
one week. We thought it the most important time of the whole year, and
we counted everything by the birthday week, and when mother didn't
answer at once "Oh yes, we shall certainly be home by the birthday
week," I felt quite astonished. But just then something or other put it
out of my head, and I forgot to speak of it again. I can't think now how
I could be so silly in some ways as I was then--it is so queer to
remember.

Well--the day _did_ come. We--the boys and I--were the first to leave
our dear old home, even though our journey was to be such a short
one--only three hours to London. Papa and mother were to start on
_their_ journey the next day, so we were not to see them again. They had
been at Uncle Geoff's the week before, seeing the rooms we were to have,
and settling everything; and I think they thought it was better not to
see us again, after we were in his house, but to get the parting over in
our old home. I suppose they thought we would get over it more quickly
if the journey and the newness of it all was to come after, and I
daresay they were right.

I can't tell you about the saying good-bye. It was so bad for us, though
we could not understand it at all properly of course, that for mother it
must have been awful. And then fancy the long day after we had all left.
The empty nurseries, the sort of _sound_ of quietness through the
house--the knowing we should never, never more be all together in the
old happy way--that we should be changed _somehow_ before she saw us
again. For three years (and poor mother knew it would be three years) is
a long time at our ages, Racey would have learnt to speak plain, and Tom
would be such a big boy that he would have got out of the way of
"hugging," perhaps, and Audrey even, that was me, you know, might have
forgotten her a little--all these thoughts must have gone through
mother's mind that dreadful afternoon, when papa had taken us to the
station and seen us off to London under Pierson's care. Oh _poor_ little
mother, she has told me all about it since, and I must say if ever I am
a big lady and have children of my own, I hope these dreadful havings to
go away won't happen to me.

Well--we were in the train. Our eyes were so red that any one might have
seen something sad had happened to us, but we didn't care. Tom's eyes
were the wor