When they turned the corner into the Allen’s block their suspicions about others being as sleepy as they were themselves seemed confirmed. The living-room light winked out as they watched, and a moment later the light went on in the big corner bedroom that belonged to Pop and Mom Allen. There was also a light in the room Richard Holt was occupying. Bert’s room was already dark.
“Ken—Sandy—is that you?” Mom called down as they let themselves in.
Sandy answered with a standing family joke. “No, Mom. There’s nobody here but us chickens.”
“Well, I just wanted to be sure,” Mom replied calmly. “There’s some cake left—and plenty of milk.”
“Thanks, Mom.” Sandy lowered his voice. “Let’s not rattle the coffeepot. Let her think we’re having our usual quick snack before going to bed.”
It was half past ten when they turned out the kitchen light, leaving the entire house in darkness. Quietly they tiptoed into the living room and settled themselves on the couch.
“Don’t get too comfortable,” Ken warned, “or you’ll fall asleep.”
“Don’t worry. I’m wide awake now.”
There was a few minutes of complete silence.
“You’re sure you’re awake?” Ken whispered.