"Yes, I did," said Davy, as they walked along the beach together; "but I got it very wet coming here." "That was quite right," said the Hole-keeper. "There's nothing so tiresome as a dry letter. Well, I suppose Robinson is expecting me by this time, isn't he?" "I don't know, I'm sure," said Davy. "He didn't say that he was expecting you." "He _must_ be," said the Hole-keeper, positively. "I never even mentioned it in my letter; so, of course, he'll know I'm coming. By the way," he added, hurriedly opening his book, and staring anxiously at one of the blank pages, "there isn't a word in here about Billyweazles. This place must be full of 'em." "What are they?" said Davy. "They're great pink birds, without any feathers on 'em," replied the Hole-keeper, solemnly. "And they're particularly fond of sugar. That's the worst thing about 'em." "I don't think there's anything very wicked in that," said Davy. "Oh! of course _you_ don't," said the Hole-keeper, fretfully. "But you see I haven't any trowsers on, and I don't fancy having a lot of strange Billyweazles nibbling at my legs. In fact, if you don't mind, I'd like to run away from here." "Very well," said Davy, who was himself beginning to feel rather nervous about the Billyweazles, and accordingly he and the Hole-keeper started off along the beach as fast as they could run. Presently the Hole-keeper stopped short and said, faintly, "It strikes me the sun is very hot here." The sun certainly was very hot, and Davy, looking at the Hole-keeper as he said this, saw that his face was gradually and very curiously losing its expression, and that his nose had almost entirely disappeared. "What's the matter?" inquired Davy, anxiously. "The matter is that I'm going back into the raw material," said the Hole-keeper, dropping his book, and sitting down helplessly in the sand. "See here, Frinkles," he continued, beginning to speak very thickly; "wrap me up in my shirt and mark the packish distingly. Take off shir quigly!" and Davy had just time to pull the poor creature's shirt over his head and spread it quickly on the beach, when the Hole-keeper fell down, rolled over upon the garment, and, bubbling once or twice, as if he were boiling, melted away into a compact lump of brown sugar. Davy was deeply affected by this sad incident, and, though he had never really liked the Hole-keeper, he could hardly keep back his tears as he wrapped up the lump in the paper shirt and laid it carefully on the big book. In fact, he was so disturbed in his mind that he was on the point of going away without marking the package, when, looking over his shoulder, he suddenly caught sight of the Cockalorum standing close beside him, carefully holding an inkstand, with a pen in it, in one of his claws. "Oh! thank you very much," said Davy, taking the pen and dipping it in the ink. "And will you please tell me his name?"