When the Marchmouses had gone, Tumtum and Nutmeg shut their front door and retreated to the kitchen. It was breakfast time, so Nutmeg boiled a kettle for tea and made some buttered toast, a big pot of porridge, two boiled eggs, and a round of pancakes. Then she laid the table and they sat down to eat, thinking how nice it was to be alone again.
"He's a strange fellow, that General Marchmouse," Tumtum said philosophically. "anyone would think that he enjoyed going to war, risking life and limb and all that."
"Well, I suppose some mice crave adventure," said Nutmeg. "But I hope we don't have another one, Tumtum. I don't feel I'm quite cut out for them."
"I don't think that there'll be any more adventures coming our way, dear," Tumtum said confidently. "We've had more than our share. From now on we'll live happily ever after." Nutmeg agreed with him, and they sat down to breakfast and put all the trouble from their minds.