door of the drawing-room beckoned to
us like friendly hostel-lights. Entering, we found that our thriftless
seniors had left the sound red heart of a fire, easily coaxed into a
cheerful blaze; and biscuits--a plateful--smiled at us in an encouraging
sort of way, together with the halves of a lemon, already once squeezed
but still suckable. The biscuits were righteously shared, the lemon
segments passed from mouth to mouth; and as we squatted round the fire,
its genial warmth consoling our unclad limbs, we realised that so many
nocturnal perils had not been braved in vain.

"It's a funny thing," said Edward, as we chatted, "how; I hate this room
in the daytime. It always means having your face washed, and your hair
brushed, and talking silly company talk. But to-night it's really quite
jolly. Looks different, somehow."

"I never can make out," I said, "what people come here to tea for.
They can have their own tea at home if they like,--they're not poor
people,--with jam and things, and drink out of their saucer, and suck
their fingers and enjoy themselves; but they come here from a long way
off, and sit up straight with their feet off the bars of their chairs,
and have one cup, and talk the same sort of stuff every time."

Selina sniffed disdainfully. "You don't know anything about it," she
said. "In society you have to call on each other. It's the proper thing
to do."

"Pooh! YOU'RE not in society," said Edward, politely; "and, what's more,
you never will be."

"Yes, I shall, some day," retorted Selina; "but I shan't ask you to come
and see me, so there!"

"Wouldn't come if you did," growled Edward.

"Well, you won't get the chance," rejoined our sister, claiming her
right of the last word. There was no heat about these little amenities,
which made up--as we understood it--the art of polite conversation.

"I don 't like society people," put in Harold from the sofa, where he
was sprawling at full length,--a sight the daylight hours would have
blushed to witness. "There were some of 'em here this afternoon, when
you two had gone off to the station. Oh, and I found a dead mouse on the
lawn, and I wanted to skin it, but I wasn't sure I knew how, by myself;
and they came out into the garden and patted my head,--I wish people
wouldn't do that,--and one of 'em asked me to pick her a flower. Don't
know why she couldn't pick it herself; but I said, 'All right, I will if
you'll hold my mouse.' But she screamed, and threw