“He’ll recover,” pronounced the Captain, after a thorough going over of his bones, “but he’ll never be the same again.”
“All is over between us,” said Slim, wringing his hands in mock despair. “Miss Kent, won’t you dance with me?”
“It’s time we were going home,” said Nyoda calmly. “Come, girls.”
“Go home!” echoed the Captain. “I thought you lived here.”
“But how about all the beds upstairs?” asked the Captain.
“Oh,” explained Nyoda, “we all constructed different kinds of beds to win honors, and left them there in case we might want to stay some time.”
“It’s a pretty fine clubhouse, I’ll say,” remarked the Bottomless Pitt in a tone of envy. “I wish we Sandwiches had one like it. We have no place to call our own.”
Hinpoha’s thoughts leaped to the Fire Song, the words of which hung beside the fireplace up above:
“Whose house is bare and dark and cold,
Whose house is cold,