St. George. "I'll stand by you, and we'll BOTH
see him home. Wake up, dragon!" he said sharply, shaking the beast by
the elbow.

The dragon looked up sleepily. "What a night, George!" he murmured;
"what a--"

"Now look here, dragon," said the Saint, firmly. "Here's this little
fellow waiting to see you home, and you KNOW he ought to have been in
bed these two hours, and what his mother'll say _I_ don't know, and
anybody but a selfish pig would have MADE him go to bed long ago--"

"And he SHALL go to bed!" cried the dragon, starting up. "Poor little
chap, only fancy his being up at this hour! It's a shame, that's what
it is, and I don't think, St. George, you've been very considerate--but
come along at once, and don't let us have any more arguing or
shilly-shallying. You give me hold of your hand, Boy--thank you, George,
an arm up the hill is just what I wanted!"

So they set off up the hill arm-in-arm, the Saint, the Dragon, and the
Boy. The lights in the little village began to go out; but there were
stars, and a late moon, as they climbed to the Downs together. And, as
they turned the last corner and disappeared from view, snatches of an
old song were borne back on the night-breeze. I can't be certain which
of them was singing, but I THINK it was the Dragon!

"Here we are at your gate," said the man, abruptly, laying his hand on
it. "Good-night. Cut along in sharp, or you'll catch it!"

Could it really be our own gate? Yes, there it was, sure enough, with
the familiar marks on its bottom bar made by our feet when we swung on
it.

"Oh, but wait a minute!" cried Charlotte. "I want to know a heap of
things. Did the dragon really settle down? And did--"

"There isn't any more of that story," said the man, kindly but firmly.
"At least, not to-night. Now be off! Good-bye!"

"Wonder if it's all true?" said Charlotte, as we hurried up the path.
"Sounded dreadfully like nonsense, in parts!"

"P'raps its true for all that," I replied encouragingly.

Charlotte bolted in like a rabbit, out of the cold and the dark; but I
lingered a moment in the still, frosty air, for a backward glance at the
silent white world without, ere I changed it for the land of firelight
and cushions and laughter. It was the day for choir-practice, and
carol-time was at hand, and a belated member was passing homewards down
the road, singing as he went:--

"Then St. George: ee made rev'rence: in the stable so dim,
Oo vanquished