_I_ am telling you the story of Floss and Carrots as it really happened too, and I am so glad that it--the story of this part of their young lives, that is to say--ends happily too. Their mother did get better, wonderfully better, and was able to come back to England in the spring, looking stronger than for many years. To England, but not to Sandyshore. Captain Desart got another appointment much farther south, where the climate was milder and better and the winters not to be dreaded for a delicate person. So they all left the Cove House! Their new home was of course by the sea too, but Carrots never would allow that it was the same sea. His own old sea stayed behind at Sandyshore, though if he were to go to look for it there now I doubt if he would find it. When old friends once get away into the country of long ago, they are hard to find again--we learn to doubt if they are to be found anywhere except in their own corners of our memory. And it is long ago now since the days when Carrots and his dear Floss ran races on the sands and made "plans" together. Long ago, in so far that you would not be able _anywhere_ to find these children whom I loved so much, and whom I have told you a little about. You would, at least I _hope_ you would, like to know what became of them, how they grew up, and what Carrots did when he got to be a man. But this I cannot now tell you, for my little book is long enough--I only hope you are not tired of it--only I may tell you one thing. If any of you know a very good, kind, gentle, brave man--so good that he cannot but be kind; so brave that he cannot but be gentle, I should like you to think that, perhaps, whatever he is--clergyman, doctor, soldier, sailor, it doesn't matter in the least--_perhaps_ when that man was a boy, he was my little Carrots. Especially if he has large "doggy-looking," brown eyes, and hair that once _might_ have been called "red." THE END