"Oh, don't tell me!" cried my mother; "I am so nervous." (Which she was,
and rather foolish as well, which used to irritate my father, who was
hasty tempered, as I am myself.)

"They've been taken by gipsies and flitted," said he.

"What do you mean by _flitted_?" inquired my mother.

"A string is tied round a hind-leg of each, and they are tethered in the
grass behind the tent, just as the donkey is tethered. So they will
remain till they grow fat, and then they will be cooked."

"Will the donkey be cooked when he is fat?" asked my mother.

"I smell valerian," said my father; on which she put out her nose, and
he ran at it with his prickles. He always did this when he was annoyed
with any member of his family; and though we knew what was coming, we
are all so fond of valerian, we could never resist the temptation to
sniff, just on the chance of there being some about.

I had long wanted to see my cousins, and I now begged my father to let
me go with him the next time he went to visit them. But he was rather
cross that morning, and he ran at me with his back up.

"So you want to gad about and be kidnapped and flitted too, do you? Just
let me--"

But when I saw him coming, I rolled myself up as tight as a wood-louse,
and as my ears were inside I really did not hear what else he said. But