They went back into the house and discovered three small figures crouched above, peering through the railings of the stairs.
“We couldn’t sleep, the singing kept us awake,” said Alice when Theodore began to scold.
“Scurry back to bed, all of you,” he ordered. “You’ll catch your death of cold.”
“Just some young people singing Christmas carols,” explained their mother. “When you are older perhaps you can go out caroling too on Christmas Eve. Kermit, come here, your night clothes aren’t properly buttoned.”
“Mame did it,” declared Kermit.
“He kept wriggling and diving under the bed,” Ted reported. “Mame couldn’t even hold him.”
“She tickles,” Kermit defended. “Will you tell us a story about the Wild West, Father?”
“Certainly not!” Edith was firm, detecting a faint sign of weakening on her husband’s face. “It’s far too late. Jump into bed quickly. Did Mame give you your tonic, Ted?”
“Yes.” He made a wry face. “I hate that gooey stuff.”
“You hate being sick, too, and the idea of not growing up as strong as the other boys,” their father reminded him.