said it was, because we had been punished thoroughly for taking the
stuffed animals out and making a jungle on the lawn with them, and
the garden hose. And you cannot be punished twice for the same
offence. This is the English law; at least I think so. And at any
rate no one would punish you three times, and we had had the
Malacca cane and the solitary confinement; and the uncle had kindly
explained to us that all ill-feeling between him and us was wiped
out entirely by the bread and water we had endured. And what with
the bread and water and being prisoners, and not being able to tame
any mice in our prisons, I quite feel that we had suffered it up
thoroughly, and now we could start fair.

I think myself that descriptions of places are generally dull, but
I have sometimes thought that was because the authors do not tell
you what you truly want to know. However, dull or not, here
goes--because you won't understand anything unless I tell you what
the place was like.

The Moat House was the one we went to stay at. There has been a
house there since Saxon times. It is a manor, and a manor goes on
having a house on it whatever happens. The Moat House was burnt
down once or twice in ancient centuries--I don't remember
which--but they always built a new one, and Cromwell's soldiers
smashed it about, but it was patched up again. It is a very odd
house: the front door opens straight into the dining-room, and
there are red curtains and a black-and-white marble floor like a
chess-board, and there is a secret staircase, only it is not secret
now--only rather rickety. It is not very big, but there is a
watery moat all round it with a brick bridge that leads to the
front door. Then, on the other side of the moat there is the farm,