"Madge, what's up?"
No answer.
"I say! you aren't crying, Madge, are you?"
Then after a long interval: "Madge!"
An answer came in a muffled voice, almost as if Marjorie had something in her mouth. "Oh shut it, old Daffy."
"But Madge?" said Daffy after reflection.
"Shut it. Do shut it! Leave me alone, I say! Can't you leave me alone? Oh!"—and for a moment she let her sobs have way with her—"Daffy, don't worry me. Old Daffy! Please!"
Daffy sat up for a long time in the stifled silence that ensued, and then like a sensible sister gave it up, and composed herself again to slumber....
Outside watching the window in a state of nebulous ecstasy, was Mr. Magnet, moonlit and dewy. It was a high serene night with a growing moon and a scattered company of major stars, and if no choir of nightingales sang there was at least a very active nightjar. "More than I hoped," whispered Mr. Magnet, "more than I dared to hope." He was very sleepy, but it seemed to him improper to go to bed on such a night—on such an occasion.