Another door opened too. In came 'mother,' proclaiming bed-time.
There was a general petition to be allowed to stay up a little longer.
'Only till the end of the story,' the children begged.
'For it's just done, mother,' said little Cecily, who had been fast asleep on the old man's shoulder for nearly an hour past. 'It's just done;' and her blue eyes tried in vain to keep wide open.
'Oh Cecily,' called the rest of the children indignantly, 'it isn't nearly done. And you've been asleep all the time. We big ones may stay, mother?'
But mother shook her head.
Then one of the little sisters said she did not so much mind going to bed, because nearly everybody in the story was grown up now, and stories about grown-up people were very dull. So she took Cecily's hand, and the two little maidens ran off together, laughing.
'It's as wild a night as ever I saw,' said the farmer, standing before the blazing fire. 'There'll be no getting across the moor to-morrow, Willie. You'll just have to be content and bide here.'
'And we shall hear the end of the story to-morrow evening,' said Lois.
When to-morrow evening came, the same group had gathered round the hearth. Again bed-time came round, and the little ones dropped off one by one, until only Lois and Roger were left to listen. But whenever the old man paused they said 'Go on, go on.' And he went on, drawn by their listening faces. By-and-by the mother came and joined them when she had seen that the children were warm and safe in bed,—all the merry eyes closed and the restless limbs at rest.