But whatever would she do? How could she ever get through the long night with all this excitement bottled up inside her?
“I believe I shall positively explode!” she muttered, as she clambered back into the old bed.
For what seemed long, long ages she lay and tossed from side to side. The night would never pass! The solemn “Tick-tock! Tick-tock!” of the grandfather clock outside her door told her so.
“Never-never! Never-never! NEVER-NEVER!” it seemed to say.
Her head burned upon the pillow, which seemed to grow larger and larger, till it almost smothered her. She turned it over to the cool side, and closed her eyes tightly.
“Never-never! Never-never!” ticked the old clock.
A sudden gust of wind shook the window, followed by the patter of raindrops on the pane.
“That doesn’t sound much like the first of December,” she thought, and shivered a little as it came again.
“Whatever shall I do if it isn’t a fine day to-morrow? Why, I must have a fine day for Mummie and Daddy to arrive on—a real scrumptious, warm, December day.”
The more she thought about it the more important it seemed. “It would be dreadful if it wasn’t even fine.”