"Mayn't I have a little bit?"
The sleepy voice came from Toppin's bed.
"Certainly not," replied his elder brother promptly. "Chicken at night is bad for little boys—high chicken especially. Tuck your head in, and don't let me hear you speak again, or I'll come to you with a slipper."
Toppin was kept in very strict order by his brother, and the boys, who were used to his methods, made no remark.
Suddenly, in the midst of the cracking and munching, Jack exclaimed in a whisper, "Cave! I hear feet!"
In an instant all the chicken-bones, salt, paper, and penknives were swooped off the counterpanes, and every boy lay flat and shut his eyes.
That same moment, to their untold vexation, a merry peal of laughter rang out from the next room. And the approaching tread of a man's feet, quick and regular, was heard by all.
"The daft maniacs!" growled Trevelyan between his teeth.
Their door was first opened, and Mr. Peace walked in. Of course, he was received with dead silence.
"Now, boys, you needn't feign sleep, because we know you're wide awake. You've been talking, too. Trevelyan!"