“There, the fire is out; that’s back-taps!” said Tom Betts.
“You’re off your base, Tom,” Bluff disagreed, “for that’s the town clock striking the hour of midnight.”
“Sure enough,” agreed Tom, when four and five had sounded.
They counted aloud until the whole twelve had struck.
“That means it’s Sunday morning. Merry Christmas, Paul, and the rest!” cried Frank.
“The same to you, and good-night, fellows!” called out Paul, as with Jack he strode away.