your
ma's head, but I don't dare have you tramp through the settin'-room to
the front ones. Now, remember that seventh stair creaks like
Ned--you've got to step right on the outside edge of it to keep it
quiet. I don't know but what you boys better step right up over that
seventh stair without touchin' foot to it."

"All right--we'll step!"

"Who's going to fix the bundles?" Carolyn paused to ask as she started
up the stairs.

"Marietta," Guy answered. "I've labeled every one, so it'll be easy.
If they hear paper rattle, they'll think it's the usual presents we've
sent on, and if they come out they'll see Marietta, so it's all right.
Quiet, now. Remember the seventh stair!"

They crept up, one by one, each to his or her old room. There needed
to be no "doubling up," for the house was large, and each room had
been left precisely as its owner had left it. It was rather ghostly,
this stealing silently about with candles, and in the necessity for
the suppression of speech the animation of the party rather suffered
eclipse. It was late, and they were beginning to be sleepy, so they
were soon in bed. But, somehow, once composed for slumber, more than
one grew wakeful again.

Guy, lying staring at a patch of wintry moonlight on the odd striped
paper of his wall--it had stopped snowing since they had come into the
house, and the clouds had broken away, leaving a brilliant
sky--discovered his door to be softly opening. The glimmer of a candle
filtered through the crack, a voice whispered his name.

"Who is it?" he answered under his breath.

"It's Nan. May I come in?"

"Of course. What's up?"

"Nothing. I wanted to talk a minute." She came noiselessly in, wrapped
in a woolly scarlet kimono, scarlet slippers on her feet, her brown
braids hanging down her back. The frost-bloom lately on her cheeks had
melted into a ruddy glow, her eyes were stars. She set her candle on
the little stand, and sat down on the edge of Guy's bed. He raised
himself on his elbow and lay looking appreciatively at her.

"This is like old times," he said. "But won't you be cold?"

"Not a bit. I'm only going to stay a minute. Anyhow, this thing is
warm as toast.... Yes, isn't it like old times?"

"Got your lessons for to-morrow?"

She laughed. "All but my Caesar. You'll help me with that, in the
morning, won't you?"

"Sure--if you'll make some cushions for my bobs."

"I will. Guy--how's Lucy Harper?"

"She's all right. How's Bob Fields?