"Half-past eight! you geese, it's half-past nine."
There was a chorus of "Oh's" and "Ah's," and then a general good-night and scampering off to bed.
CHAPTER XIV.
It was very late before Hope fell asleep that night. Generally sleep came to her quickly while Myra dawdled and pottered about, until the lights were put out. But on this night Myra, from her little bed in the opposite corner of the room, heard her usually quiet room-mate tossing and turning in a very restless fashion.
"What in the world is the matter with you, Hope?" she asked her at length. "Are you ill?"
"Ill? Oh, no; I'm only a little restless," Hope answered. "I am sorry I disturbed you,—I'll try to be quieter."
"Oh, you didn't disturb me, Hope,—such a little thing as that wouldn't disturb me,—but I thought you must have something the matter with you, you are such a mouse generally. You're sure there isn't anything the matter?"
"Yes, quite sure."
"Not even Dorothea?"