“But they’ll be asleep, an’ you can’t,” was the quiet reply.
“Then I’d rather go in the barn anyway.”
“Now see here,” said Sam, with an air of wisdom, as he sucked the remaining particles of candy from his fingers, “I know father an’ mother better’n you do, don’t I?”
“Yes,” replied Tim, glad that Sam had made one statement with which he could agree.
“Then you do jest as I tell you. We’ll creep up-stairs like a couple of mice, an’ in the morning I’ll fix everything. Mother wouldn’t want you to sleep in the barn when you could come with me as well as not; an’ you do as I tell you.”
It did not seem to Tim that he could do anything else, and he said, as he slid down from the rock, “I’ll do it, Sam, but I rather you’d ask them.”
Sam, content with having gained his point, walked silently along, with Tim by his side, and followed by Tip, who acted as if he knew he was going out to spend the night without a proper invitation.
When they reached the house not a light was to be seen, and the three crept up-stairs, not quite as softly as mice, but so quietly that Mr. and Mrs. Simpson did not hear them.
That night Sam, Tim, and Tip lay on one bed, and neither one of them lost any sleep by thinking of their possible reception in the morning.