The indignant little girl started toward the couch to straighten out and roll the flag when her ear caught a sound which caused her to pause a moment in dim speculation. There was a step below, a firm, a familiar step—but no, she must be mistaken!
She slipped over to the couch, but the next moment drew back and clapped her hand over her mouth to repress a startled scream. A little yellow-haired boy lay asleep upon the couch, with the big flag nearly covering him!
Louise leaned over him. Two shining drops still lay on his cheek. He had sobbed himself to sleep—he was such a little boy!
"You can't touch Rudolph!" she tried. "He's under the flag!"
A drift of damp air floated in from the window, and the sleeper shivered and moved as if to cuddle further under his shelter. Louise very gently drew the bunting folds closer about his neck. Somehow she knew that this was not desecration.
That steady step from below again and—nearer!
But just at that moment the boys came noisily back from the distant wings and gables.
"Hello, Louise! What are you doing there?" Luke Musgrove called.