'For goodness' sake say it now then, for there's a huge crack over my bed.'
So Ross lifted up his voice and chanted,—
'From gholies and ghosties,
From long leggity beasties,
From things that go bump in the night
St Christopher deliver us.'
We spent an exhausting hour mopping up the water. Ross said he could now sympathise with the other occupants of the Ark when Noah would keep opening the window. After we'd got the place dry Ross said,—
'It's nearly one o'clock, Meg; come and have lunch in my room. I've got a thermos full of coffee and some perfectly adorable biscuits—the squashed fly sort.'
Ross really thought my ceiling might come down, so he rolled himself up on the nursery sofa, and I spent the rest of the night in his bed. I lay awake for some time groaning in spirit at the thought of the mess and muddle workmen always make, and wondering how much more of the roof was likely to descend on us. Presently I heard Ross whisper outside,—
'Meg, are you asleep?'
'No, I wish I was.'
'Your grammar seems as defective as your dwelling,' he said, poking his head round the door.
'What I came in to say, Meg, was that when the workmen strip that bit of roof you may find the date of the house.'