"Fire's getting low," was all he said, and he dumped the school-books, every one, into the blaze.
The other Lakerimmers knew that they had passed every examination, either brilliantly or, at the worst, well enough to scrape through. Sleepy did not even know whether he had failed or not; but the next morning he found out that he should sadly need next year those books that were charred ashes in a corner of the campus, and should have to replace them out of his spending-money.
That night, however, he was blissful with ignorance, and having made a pyre of his bookish tormentors, he fell in with the jollity of the others.
When it grew very late silence gradually fell on the gossipy Twelve. The beauty of the night and the union of souls seemed to be speech enough.
Finally the fire fell asleep, and with one mind they all rose and, standing in a circle about glimmering ashes, clasped hands in eternal friendship, and said:
"Good night!"