'No, it's your Everard,' he said, moving about on tiptoe. 'Sh-sh, now. Go to sleep again like a good little girl.'
Through her sleepiness she knew that voice of his; it meant one of his pleased moods. How sweet of him to be taking such care not to disturb her ... dear Everard ... he and Aunt Dot must have made friends then ... how glad she was ... wonderful little Aunt Dot ... before dinner he was angry, and she had been so afraid ... afraid ... what a relief ... how glad....
But Lucy was asleep again, and the next thing she knew was Everard's arm being slid under her shoulders and she being drawn across the bed and gathered to his breast.
'Who's my very own baby?' she heard him saying; and she woke up just enough sleepily to return his kiss.
THE END