“Oh yes,” said Becky, “they’re just close by your house.  Does your mother let you go in the water?”

Now Becky said a great many of these words very funnily, so that Milly could hardly understand her.  She said “doos” and “oop,” and “knaw,” and “jist,” and “la-ike,” but it sounded quite pretty from her soft little mouth, and Milly thought she had a very nice way of talking.

“No, mother doesn’t let us go in the water here, at least, not unless it’s very warm.  We paddle when we go to the sea, and some day father says we may have our bath in the river if it’s very fine.”

“We never have a bath in the river,” said Becky, looking very much astonished at the idea.

“Do you have your bath in the nursery like we do?” asked Milly.

“We haven’t got a nursery,” said Becky, staring at her, “mother puts us in the toob on Saturday nights.  I don’t mind it but Tiza doesn’t like it a bit.  Sometimes she hides when it’s Saturday night, so that mother can’t find her till it’s too late.”

“Don’t you have a bath except on Saturday?” said Milly.  “Olly and I have one every morning.  Mother says we should get like shock-headed Peter if we didn’t.”

“I don’t know about him,” said Becky, shaking her head.

“He’s a little boy in a picture-book.  I’ll show him you when you come to tea.  But there’s mother calling.  Come along, Olly.  Tiza won’t come down Becky says.”

“She’s a very rude girl,” said Olly, who was rather hot and tired with his game, and didn’t think it was all fun that Tiza should always hit him and he should never be able to hit Tiza.  “I won’t sit next her when she comes to tea with us.”

“Tiza’s only in fun,” said Becky, “she’s always like that.  Tiza, are you coming down?  I am going to get baby out, I heard him crying just now.”

“May you take baby out all by yourself?” asked Milly.

“Why, I always take him out, and I put him to sleep at nights; and mother says he won’t go to sleep for anybody as quick as for me,” said Becky proudly.

Milly felt a good deal puzzled.  It must be funny to have no Nana.

“Will you and he,” said Becky, pointing to Olly, “come up this afternoon and help us call the cows?”

“If we may,” said Milly; “who calls them?”

“Tiza and I,” answered Becky; “when I’m a big girl I shall learn how to milk, but fayther says I’m too little yet.”

“I wish I lived at a farm,” said Milly disconsolately.

Becky didn’t quite know what to say to this, so she began to call Tiza again.

“Swish!” went something past them as quick as lightning.  It was Tiza running to the house.  Olly set out to run after her as fast as he could run, but he came bang up against his mother standing at the farmhouse door, just as Tiza got safely in and was seen no more.

“Ah, you won’t catch Tiza, master,” said Mrs. Backhouse, patting his head; “she’s a rough girl, always at some tricks or other—­we think she ought to have been a boy, really.”