It was Aunt Emma, too, who had aired all the sheets ready; and the men who had moved the furniture had put the bedsteads together, so the beds were soon made. “Good night, chickies,” said Mother. “I'm sure there aren't any rats. But I'll leave my door open, and then if a mouse comes, you need only scream, and I'll come and tell it exactly what I think of it.” Then she went to her own room. Roberta woke to hear the little travelling clock chime two. It sounded like a church clock ever so far away, she always thought. And she heard, too, Mother still moving about in her room. Next morning Roberta woke Phyllis by pulling her hair gently, but quite enough for her purpose. “Wassermarrer?” asked Phyllis, still almost wholly asleep. “Wake up! wake up!” said Roberta. “We're in the new house--don't you remember? No servants or anything. Let's get up and begin to be useful. We'll just creep down mouse-quietly, and have everything beautiful before Mother gets up. I've woke Peter. He'll be dressed as soon as we are.” So they dressed quietly and quickly. Of course, there was no water in their room, so when they got down they washed as much as they thought was necessary under the spout of the pump in the yard. One pumped and the other washed. It was splashy but interesting. “It's much more fun than basin washing,” said Roberta. “How sparkly the weeds are between the stones, and the moss on the roof--oh, and the flowers!” The roof of the back kitchen sloped down quite low. It was made of thatch and it had moss on it, and house-leeks and stonecrop and wallflowers, and even a clump of purple flag-flowers, at the far corner. “This is far, far, far and away prettier than Edgecombe Villa,” said Phyllis. “I wonder what the garden's like.” “We mustn't think of the garden yet,” said Roberta, with earnest energy. “Let's go in and begin to work.” They lighted the fire and put the kettle on, and they arranged the crockery for breakfast; they could not find all the right things, but a glass ash-tray made an excellent salt-cellar, and a newish baking-tin seemed as if it would do to put bread on, if they had any. When there seemed to be nothing more that they could do, they went out again into the fresh bright morning. “We'll go into the garden now,” said Peter. But somehow they couldn't find the garden. They went round the house and round the house. The yard occupied the back, and across it were stables and outbuildings. On the other three sides the house stood simply in a field, without a yard of garden to divide it from the short smooth turf. And yet they had certainly seen the garden wall the night before. It was a hilly country. Down below they could see the line of the railway, and the black yawning mouth of a tunnel. The station was out of sight. There was a great bridge with tall arches running across one end of the valley. “Never mind the garden,” said Peter; “let's go down and look at the railway. There might be trains passing.”