The children when they were staying there were put to sleep at the top, and Olly used to sit down on the stairs and pout and grumble every time they had to go up.
But Olly shook his obstinate little head.
"I don't believe it's a bit like going up stairs." However, as they couldn't know what it was like before they tried, nurse told them it was no good talking about it.

So they hurried on with their dressing, and presently there stood as fresh a pair of morning children as anyone could wish to see, with rosy cheeks, and smooth hair, and clean print frocks--for Olly was still in frocks--though when the winter came mother said she was going to put him into knickerbockers.
And then nurse took them each by the hand and led them through some long passages, down a pretty staircase, and through a swing door, into what looked like a great nagged kitchen, only there was no fireplace in it.
The real kitchen opened out of it at one side, and through the door came a smell of coffee and toast that made the children feel as hungry as little hunters.

But their own room was straight in front, across the kitchen without a fireplace, a tiny room with one large window hung round with roses, and looking out on to a green lawn.
"Nana, isn't it pretty?
Nana, I think it's lovely!" said Milly, looking out and clapping her hands.

And it _was_ a pretty garden they could see from the window.

An up-and-down garden, with beds full of bright flowers, and grass which was nearly all moss, and so soft that no cushion could be softer.