“I told Sandy all about myself,” said the False Hare, winking at the children.  “I told him I was just as good as I could be!”

The children could not help laughing.  “I’m afraid you don’t know him as well as we do, Mr. Sandy,” said Ann.

“Oh, I know about as much as I want to know about him,” said Sandy, pretending to frown very fiercely.  “I’ve almost made up my mind to get rid of him, but the truth is I don’t really know just where he belongs.”

“Doesn’t matter to me whether I spend the night with a bald-headed old gentleman or a bird-dog—­all the same to me,” said the False Hare meekly.  This speech sounded so like him that the children looked at one another and burst out laughing again, at which the False Hare gave a kind of solemn wink, sighed, and touched his eyes with a little paper handkerchief he held gracefully in one paw.

The Sandman turned his back on the silly fellow, and went on with his explanations to the children:  “We have a very select set of customers,” he said, “and it’s our aim to supply ’em with the finest line of goods on the market.  Wears me to a frazzle sometimes, this business does,” he stopped to wipe from his brow a tiny stream of sand that was trickling down it, “but I’ve got to keep at it!  All the 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.