“Ailsa!” he said; and that really did floor us, because we knew we’d never even mentioned her existence to him. She stood staring, and then put her hand up against her throat, exactly like somebody in a book.
“Andrew!” she said, in a faint little voice.
Mother looked at them, and then said:
“Bedtime, chicks! Come along!” and went up with us.
It was quite weird, going to bed at nine o’clock in the morning. We pulled down all the shades so we could sleep, though I don’t really think we needed to, because I know that as soon as I shut my eyes I was sound asleep.
When I woke up the room was quite dim, and Mother and Father were standing at the door talking. Father looked awfully tired, but dear and glad, and he wouldn’t let me tell him how sorry I was about it all. Mother said that even more surprising things had been happening, and that if I’d slept enough for a time, I’d better come down to supper. That was queer, too,—dressing in the twilight and coming down to supper, instead of to breakfast.
We all talked a lot at supper, of course, and people kept asking questions. I had to do most of the answering, because Jerry always left out the parts about himself, and yet it was he who did all the wonderful things. We had bottles of ginger-pop, because it was a sort of feast, and Father got up and proposed toasts, just like a real banquet. First he said:
“Jerry! I’m glad to have a son with a level head.”
Then he said:
“Christine!” and looked at me very hard, till I wanted to turn away. But they all drank it just the same as Jerry’s, though I didn’t deserve it at all. Then Father held up his glass and said very gently: