“I thought the porch had broken down,” said Phyllis hysterically. “George, did you fix that railing?”
“Nonsense. The porch is all right. Get back to sleep, little toads.”
“What was it, Ben’s bed?”
“Ben’s! No such luck, it’s mine,” said Ruth, opening the door. “Where does the light turn on? I can’t find the button.” She saw George and gave a squeak of dismay.
She needn’t be so damned skittish, he thought angrily. Nightgowns don’t seem to be any novelty in this house. “Phyl, you take Janet into bed, I’ll put Sylvia on the window seat. Keep them off that porch till I’ve mended the railing in the morning.”
Ben was grumbling over the wreckage. “George, what’s the secret of this thing? Lend a hand.”
“I’m frightfully sorry,” said George. “I ought to have warned you. Here, I can fix it, there’s a bit of clothesline——”
“For Heaven’s sake, don’t start tinkering now,” said Ruth, who had dived into the other bed. “I’m all right here, and Ben can sleep on the mattress.”
Her door was open, she stood anxiously waiting as he came downstairs at last. She had put on her wrapper, he noticed with a twinge.