to her, but Maude was crying all the time, and perhaps Mamma was too.

The journey seemed very long; and Lucy was really tired when she
was put down at last in a big bed, nicely warmed for her, and with
a bright fire in the room. As soon as she had had some beef-tea,
she went off soundly to sleep and only woke to drink tea, give the
dolls their supper, and put them to sleep.

The next evening she was sitting up by the fire, and the fourth day
she was running about the house as if nothing had ever been the
matter with her, but she was not to go home for a fortnight; and
being wet, cold, dull weather, it was not always easy to amuse
herself. She had her dolls, to be sure, and the little dog Don,
to play with, and sometimes Mr. Bunker would let her make funny
things with the dough, or stone the raisins, or even help make a
pudding; but still there was a good deal of time on her hands.
She had only two books with her, and the rash had made her eyes
weak, so that she did not much like reading them. The notes that
every one wrote from home were quite enough for her. What she
liked best--that is, when Mrs. Bunker could not attend to her--was
to wander about the museum, explaining the things to the dolls:
"That is a crocodile, Lonicera; it eats people up, and has a little
bird to pick its teeth. Look, Clare, that bony thing is a skeleton
--the skeleton of a lizard. Paws off, my dear; mustn't touch.
That's amber, just like barley sugar, only not so nice; people
make necklaces of it. There's a poor little dead fly inside.
Those are the dear delightful humming-birds; look at their crests,
just like Mamma's jewels. See the shells; aren't they beauties?
People get pearls out of those great flat ones, and dive all down
to the bottom of the sea after them; mustn't touch, my dear, only