last, and the three of us in the big four-poster; the door
shut upon the world of Mrs. Handsomebody, and the windows firmly barred
against burglars and night air.

Angel announced: "First watch for me! You go right to sleep, John, and I'll
wake you when the clock strikes ten. Then you'll feel nice and fresh for
your watch."

But I wasn't at all sleepy and we lay in the dusk and talked till the
familiar harsh voice of the hall clock rasped out nine o'clock.

"You go to sleep, please John," whispered Angel in a drowsy voice, "and
I'll watch till ten."

I felt drowsy too, so I put my arm about the slumbering Seraph and soon
fell fast asleep.

It seemed to me but a moment when Angel roused me. I know I had barely
settled down to an enjoyable dream in which I was the only customer in an
ice-cream parlour, where there were seven waitresses, each one obsequiously
proffering a different flavour.

"Second watch on deck!" whispered Angel, hoarsely--"and look lively!"

"But I'd only just put my spoon in the strawberry ice," I moaned. "Can't be
ten minutes yet."

"Oh, I say," complained Angel, "don't you s'pose I know when the old clock
strikes ten? You've been sleepin' like a drunken pirate and no mistake.
Must be near eleven by now."

"I'll just see for myself," I declared. "I'll go and look at the schoolroom
clock." And I began to scramble over him.

"You will not then--" muttered Angel, clutching me. "I shan't let you!"

"You won't, eh? If it's really ten you needn't care, need you!"

"Course it's ten--It's nearer eleven, but you're going to do what I say."

At that we came to grips and fought and floundered till the bed rocked, and
the poor little Seraph clung to his pillow as a shipwrecked sailor to a
raft in a stormy sea. Exhaustion alone made us stop for breath; still we
clung desperately to each other, our small bodies pressed hotly together,
Angel's nose flattened against my ear. The Seraph snuggled up to us. "Just
you wait"--breathed Angel--his hands tightened on me, then relaxed--his
legs twitched--"Strawberry or pineapple, sir?" came the dulcet tones of the
waitress. I was in my ice-cream parlour again! Seven flavours were laid
before me. I fell to, for I was hot and thirsty.

I was disturbed by The Seraph, singing his morning song. It was a tuneless
drone, yet not unmusical. Always the first to open his eyes in the morning,
he began his day with a sort of Saga of his exploits of the day before,
usuall