When nine o’clock came, and Eunice and Cricket and Edna had gone upstairs, they decided, in spite of previous resolutions, that it might be better just to lie down for awhile, “though it was not at all worth while to go to sleep.” So they stretched themselves on the beds, all dressed, to talk over the coming day.
“Edna,” said Cricket, presently, after a suspiciously long silence, “my clothes are all wriggled up, somehow, and I b’lieve I’ll take my dress off. It won’t take long to put it on in the morning, and I’ll be more comfortable.”
“I was just thinking,” agreed Edna, sleepily, “that we’d better take off our dresses.”
“I think,” said Eunice, when their dresses were off, “I’ll take off my skirts, too. They get so twisty.”
With their skirts removed they lay down again, and began to talk with renewed zest. Presently conversation flagged again.
“Cricket,” said Edna, rousing suddenly, “I can’t stand it, and I’m going to bed, just the same as usual. I don’t think it’s a bit of fun to sit up all night. Listen! What is that striking? Only ten o’clock!”
The others, by this time, were more than willing to go to bed in ordinary fashion, and in ten minutes more, all three little girls were in the Land of Nod.
It proved to be a wonderfully prompt little party, for it was only half-past five o’clock when they all assembled, with well-filled luncheon-baskets, and empty pails to bring home their blackberries in.
They were all rather heavy-eyed and quiet at first, to be sure, but they soon grew wide-awake. It seemed a very new world to the little girls, who had scarcely ever been up at this hour before, though the boys, from many a fishing and nutting excursion, were more used to it.
“Doesn’t it look as if everything had been washed?” said Cricket, skipping along delightedly. “How the leaves rustle, and how the birds sing! I’m going to get up every day, after this, at five o’clock.”