. Other than this, no sound broke the
perfect stillness of the night. The full moon rode high, and lake and
woodland were flooded with silver light. A glorious night! Mrs.
Merryweather sighed; what was the use of staying in bed on such a night
as this, when one could not sleep? If only there were some excuse for
getting up!

Suddenly she remembered that, the night being very warm, and the two
children apparently entirely recovered from their slight indisposition,
they had been allowed to sleep out on the Point, in accordance with a
promise made some days ago by their father. She had not been quite
willing, but had yielded to pressure, and they had gone out, very happy,
with their blankets and the india-rubber floor-cloth.

Mrs. Merryweather sat up in bed. "I ought to go and see if those chicks
are all right!" she said. "After all, they certainly were not quite well
this afternoon, whatever Miles may say." She glanced half-defiantly at
the other cot, but Miles said nothing. She rose quietly, put on wrapper
and slippers, and opening noiselessly the screen-door of the tent,
slipped out into the open, and stood for a moment looking about her. How
beautiful it was! what a wonderful silver world! Sleep was good, but
surely, to be awake, on such a night as this, was better.

She stole past the other tents, pausing an instant at the door of each
to listen for the regular breathing which is the sweetest music a mother
can hear; then she made her way out to the Point, through the sweet
tangle of fern and berry-bushes, under the bending trees that dropped
dew on her head as she passed.

The Point lay like the prow of some great vessel in a silver sea. One
tall pine stood for the mast; under this pine, rolled in scarlet
blankets, their rosy faces turned toward the moon, lay the children,
sound asleep. Willy had curled one arm under his head, and his other
hand was locked in his sister's.

"Dear little things!" murmured their mother. "That means that
Kitty-my-pretty was a little bit frightened before she went to sleep.
Dear little things!"

She stood there for some time looking down at them.

"The moon is full on their faces!" she said. "My old nurse would tell me
that they would be moonstruck 'for sartain sure!' How terrified I used
to be, lest a ray of moonlight should shine on my bed, and I should wake
a lunatic!"

She glanced up at the moon; looked again, and yet again. "That is very
singular!" said Mrs. Merryweather.