Anyhow that was a fine fire, and it lit up the lake and the woods all about, while the numerous sparks that rose and fell in the air were like golden rain.
After the fire began to fade and to die they all returned to their Christmas dinner in the hut.
No fewer than four candles were lighted to-night, one in each corner of the room. Oh, Tom meant to do everything in first-class form, I can tell you!
And I feel pretty certain that even at home in Merrie England no one that evening ate more heartily or made a better dinner than our Crusoes, all alone though they were in the far-off Frozen North.
After supper they all came round the fire, and the dogs went off to sleep, perchance to dream; but the children kept very wide awake indeed. And Tom told lots of droll, funny stories, and everybody sang songs. After this, all the talk was about home and the delightful time they were sure to have in one year's time, when Christmas came round again once more.
Then came sleep, and when Tom looked at his watch—next morning let me call it—it was very nearly twelve o'clock!
Although it now wanted but a fortnight, according to Tom's reckoning, of the first sunrise, it was still as dark as ever, and but for the moon and stars and glorious Aurora, life about this time would have been very tame and dreary indeed.
Yet, owing to the clearness of the air and the purity of everything around them, the children never once lost heart. In fact they were as merry as sky-larks, and often made the island resound with song and mirth and laughter.
And the dogs, as well as Flossy, were merrier still. They barked and laughed as only dogs can, and chased each other round and round in great circles, often disappearing for ten minutes at a time, and springing out and rolling Flossy over and over when she least expected them.