All their beds had gone.

A bed was made up for Peter on the drawing-room sofa.
"I say, this is larks," he said, wriggling joyously, as Mother tucked him up.

"I do like moving! I wish we moved once a month." Mother laughed.
"I don't!" she said.

"Good night, Peterkin." As she turned away Roberta saw her face.

She never forgot it.
"Oh, Mother," she whispered all to herself as she got into bed, "how brave you are! How I love you! Fancy being brave enough to laugh when you're feeling like THAT!" Next day boxes were filled, and boxes and more boxes; and then late in the afternoon a cab came to take them to the station.
Aunt Emma saw them off.