Mother went out into the hall with the rest of us clinging to her, and down the garden path to the fly. Just as she was getting in, Father or some one asked if she’d got her keys, and Jane the housemaid had to go tearing indoors for them. While we were waiting, Fräulein looked round and gave a little cry. There was Teddy creeping down the garden, his little toes all curling up as they touched the ground, and no fork at all. “_Ach_, you naughty, naughty _Kindchen_! Go in out of the cold. You will have your death,” cried Fräulein, and she rushed back and carried him into the house and then came out again shutting the front door. It took two or three minutes for Mother to get settled in the fly and the luggage to be arranged, and then we all hugged her in a sort of a heap and they began to drive off, Mother kissing her hand out of the window. I didn’t see that though, Humph told me afterwards, because I was running indoors as hard as I could tear and as it was I could only just hold in the crying until I got to the bathroom. I’ve discovered that you can pull out a bit of the wood that’s round the bath and creep in sort of behind, so it’s a lovely place for times of trouble. At least, I didn’t exactly discover the place, but I saw it when the man came to mend the taps; he was a very nice man and gave me some putty. Well, when I got into the bathroom, I was very surprised to see that the bit of wood had been pulled out already and was lying on the floor, and then when I began to crawl in I was still more surprised because there was a funny noise coming from inside, like the guinea-pig makes when he is excited. I was so astonished that I stopped crying. I crawled quickly, though it’s very squeezy, but, of course, that’s really a great ’vantage because no grown-up could possibly come after. And when I got to the end, there was a large curled-up heap; I couldn’t see much because it’s almost dark, but I thought it must be a dear dog, so I put out my hand to feel. It was something soft, but not like a dog, more like a person; then I felt some curly hair. “Teddy!” I called out, most amazed, because I didn’t know any of them knew of this place but me. (I hadn’t meant to be mean in not telling, but one must keep somewhere for times of great trouble.) The funny noise was still going on, and then I remembered it’s what Teddy does, when he cries very hard; he hardly ever cries at all though, that’s how I’d forgotten. “What is the matter, Ted?” I said. I couldn’t cuddle him because there wasn’t room, but I stroked him as well as I could lying on my stomach. “Go in out of the cold,” he said. “Go in out of the cold. Mother gone away for a million years. Go in out of the cold.” I felt I loved him ever so much more to find he really did mind about Mother going away. “But, Teddy, you’d have only seen Mother for a minute more, if Fräulein hadn’t sent you in out of the cold,” I told him.