Well, in the next few days we got more used to the idea of Mother’s going away, and it didn’t seem quite so dreadful. She told us that she was going to a place called Algiers, where there were black people, real live ones walking about the streets in funny clothes, and that she’d draw pictures of them for us, and of course that was very interesting. But still we were pretty miserable--all except Teddy. It seemed as if I couldn’t forgive him. He didn’t mind a bit more than he had done the first evening, even when he was quite awake. I began to think he hadn’t got any heart, like Nero. Now Humph, though at times you’d think he cared about nothing but what sort of pudding there was going to be for dinner, yet when big sort of things come, you just find out he does. And he is most awfully brave too, Humph is. Once he chopped a piece off his finger and the blood was simply pouring out, and all he said was, “Tie on the bit, quick; it must kneel by first attention.” I don’t know what he meant, but there’d been a gentleman staying who talked a lot of doctoring stuff with Father, so I expect it was some of that. Anyway, it was very brave. The days before Mother went seemed each about as long as five ordinary days, and yet very short too. It was a funny thing. At last the morning came for her to start. We had to get up very early, because she and Father were going by the 7.45 train, and so the lamp was lit at breakfast, and that always makes you feel queer and choky. Mother couldn’t eat anything, and Father was sort of scolding her all the time to get her to; and we were sitting as close to her as we could squeeze, all dressed anyhow, and not having had time to brush our teeth--at least, Humph and I hadn’t. As for Ted, Fräulein hadn’t dressed him at all, but had just brought him down to say goodbye in his little scarlet dressing-gown, which is made out of my old winter jacket; he sat on Mother’s lap and tried to hold a fork with his toes, and he still seemed quite happy. I’d have liked to shake him if I hadn’t been so miserable myself. At last there was a ring at the bell, and it was the fly. “Now do try to drink up your coffee, my dear,” Father said; but Mother said, “I can’t, I can’t.” “Well, we must start at once,” Father said. It was all very well for him, for he was going to London with Mother and down to the ship to see her off. Mother got up though, and put Teddy into the big chair by the fire, kissing him all the while. He had still got the fork in his toes. “Look, look, Teddy eat breakfast with his feet!” he called out, pointing to them. He didn’t seem able to think of anything else.