'Eh? This is very queer,' he muttered, slapping the open sheet just as
his wife had done, and reading it again at arm's-length. 'Somebody'--
he looked suspiciously round the room--'has been reading my notes or
picking out my thoughts while I'm asleep, eh?'
'But it's a real letter,' objected Jinny; 'it's correspondence, isn't
it, Daddy?'
'It is certainly a correspondence,' he comforted her, and then,
reading it aloud, he proceeded to pin it on the wall above the
mantelpiece:--
'The Starlight Xpress starts to-night, Be reddy and punctuel. Sleep
titely and get out.'
That was all. But everybody exchanged glances.
'Odd,' thought Mother, again remembering her dreams.
Jimbo upset the milk-jug. Usually there would have been a rumpus over
this. To-day it seemed like something happening far away--something
that had not really happened at all.
'We must all be ready then,' said Rogers, noticing vaguely that
Mother's sleeve had smeared the butter as she mopped up the mess.
Daddy was making a note on his shirt sleeve:--
The Sweep, the Laugher and the Tramp,
The running man who lights the lamp,
The Woman of the Haystack, too,
The Gardener and Man of Dust
Are passengers because they must
Follow the Guard with eyes of blue.
Over the forests and into the Cave
That is the way we must all behave---
'Please, Daddy, will you move? It's dripping on to your boot.
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