folks, big and little, like Good Dreams, and want 'em every night, and
if they get mixed up or the quality's inferior, or there's not enough
to go around, I tell you what, it makes trouble for Sandy! But just
step a little nearer, and you shall see for yourselves how the whole
thing is managed."

The children followed Sandy, who walked back to the pile of empty
sacks, picked one up, compared the label on it with a name on his
list, and called out in a loud voice: "Mrs. Patrick O'Flynn, Wash
Lady--excellent character--never misses on a Monday--six
children--husband not altogether satisfactory. Here, now,
Noddy--Blink! I'll want some help, boys."

As he called out these two names, two very fat, sleepy boys, looking
like pillows with strings tied round their waists, slouched from
behind the rock where they had been waiting, and stood sulkily at
attention. There was a scramble and a rush and a fuss among the Good
Dreams, just as there had been before when the children first peeped
into the glade, each one struggling and pushing and crowding to get
ahead of the next, without any regard as to whether or not it was
wanted. It took a tremendous effort on the part of Sandy, together
with all the help the sleepy sulky boys would give, to get the right
collection of dreams into the Wash Lady's sack, and to keep the wrong
ones out.

"Letter from the Old Country," Sandy cried. "That's it, boys, more
lively there. Tell that Pound of Tea to step up--No, no pink silk
stockings to-day, thank you. Tell that Landlord the rent's paid, I'll
let him know when he's wanted. Hand over that pile of mended
clothing--and the pay envelope, mind it's the right amount--all the