satin-lined box and ran to draw them into the middle of the glade.
Sandy, as the little man appeared to be called, paused in his
business, turned round, and smiled at the children.

"Now then," said he, "what are you doing here? Don't you know this is
my busy night? Who are you, anyway? Not on my list, I'll warrant.
Who's dreams are you?"

"Nobody's," began Rudolf. "The Corn-cob Queen sent us to see if you
could tell us any way to get back to our Aunt Jane--"

"Nobody's?" interrupted the little man. "Did you say you were Nobody's
dreams? Don't see him in the N's." And he took a printed list out of
his pocket and ran his eye anxiously over it. "Are you sure--"

"Please, he means we're not dreams," said Ann, stepping forward, "at
least we don't think so." She hesitated a second and then added: "It
depends on what happens to them. Are these all dreams?"

"All perfectly Good Dreams, or my name's not Sandman," answered the
baggy fellow briskly. "We don't handle the Bad Ones here, not us!"

Peter looked interested. "Where does the Bad Ones live?" he asked. "I
wants to see them."

The Sandman shook his head at Peter. "Oh, no, you don't, little boy,"
he said. "No, you don't! Don't you go meddling in their direction or
you'll get into trouble, take my word for it. They live way off in the
woods and they're a bad lot. They've got a worse boss than old Sandy!
No, no;--the good kind are trouble enough for me. What with the hurry