At breakfast the twins learnt to their astonishment that, though appearances all pointed the other way what they were really doing was not being stationary at all, but merely having a night’s lodging and breakfast between, as it were, two trains.

Mr. Twist, who looked pale and said shortly when the twins remarked solicitously on it that he felt pale, briefly announced the fact.

“What?” exclaimed Anna-Rose, staring at Mr. Twist and then at Edith—­Mrs. Twist, they were told, was breakfasting in bed—­“Why, we’ve unpacked.”

“You will re-pack,” said Mr. Twist.

They found difficulty in believing their ears.

“But we’ve settled in,” remonstrated Anna-Felicitas, after an astonished pause.

“You will settle out,” said Mr. Twist.

He frowned.  He didn’t look at them, he frowned at his own teapot.  He had made up his mind to be very short with the Annas until they were safely out of the house, and not permit himself to be entangled by them in controversy.  Also, he didn’t want to look at them if he could help it.  He was afraid that if he did he might be unable not to take them both in his arms and beg their pardon for the whole horridness of the world.

But if he didn’t look at them, they looked at him.  Four round, blankly surprised eyes were fixed, he knew, unblinkingly on him.

“We’re seeing you in quite a new light,” said Anna-Rose at last, troubled and upset.

“Maybe,” said Mr. Twist, frowning at his teapot.

“Perhaps you will be so good,” said Anna-Felicitas stiffly, for at all times she hated being stirred up and uprooted, “as to tell us where you think we’re going to.”

“Because,” said Anna-Rose, her voice trembling a little, not only at the thought of fresh responsibilities, but also with a sense of outraged faith, “our choice of residence, as you may have observed, is strictly limited.”

Mr. Twist, who had spent an hour before breakfast with Edith, whose eyes were red, informed them that they were en route for California.

“To those other people,” said Anna-Rose.  “I see.”

She held her head up straight.

“Well, I expect they’ll be very glad to see us,” she said after a silence; and proceeded, her chin in the air, to look down her nose, because she didn’t want Mr. Twist, or Edith or Anna-Felicitas, to notice that her eyes had gone and got tears in them.  She angrily wished she hadn’t got such damp eyes.  They were no better than swamps, she thought—­undrained swamps; and directly fate’s foot came down a little harder than usual, up oozed the lamentable liquid.  Not thus should the leader of an expedition behave.  Not thus, she was sure, did the original Christopher.  She pulled herself together; and after a minute’s struggle was able to leave off looking down her nose.

But meanwhile Anna-Felicitas had informed Mr. Twist with gentle dignity that he was obviously tired of them.