Nadine had noticed it herself, but, supposing it was just some little mistake in the brewing, had said nothing, and gone on drinking it, while Abel and Lydia were too keen of appetite to be particular.
"I'm sure I don't know," replied Nadine, being thus challenged, and feeling that her culinary reputation was at stake. "I made it myself, and I didn't notice anything different from other times. Perhaps there is too much chicory in it."
"That may be it," returned Cæsar. "Anyway I'm too thirsty to bother. I'll just finish off my share."
No sooner was the meal finished than Lydia, who seemed particularly tired, sat down on the floor beside Nadine's chair, and letting her head droop upon her little mother's knee, fell fast asleep.
"Poor little pet," murmured Nadine, fondling the golden curls. "Just see, Cæsar, how tired Lydia is! The sand-man has taken her by surprise. Indeed my own head feels very heavy."
"That's because we've been working so hard," responded Cæsar. "We're just tired out, all of us. Why, look at Abel—he's gone to sleep in his chair, and I don't wonder at him, I feel completely played out myself."
"I must hurry and undress the little ones and put them to bed," said Nadine, giving a great yawn, and making an effort to open wide her heavy-lidded eyes.
"Dear me! But how sleepy I feel. I can scarcely hold my head up."
"No more can I," drawled Cæsar drowsily as he dropped into a chair where a moment later he was sound asleep, while Nadine, without accomplishing what she had in mind, quickly followed his example, so that long ere midnight the whole four children were sunk in a profound slumber that could hardly have been due merely to natural fatigue.