"It was only the beer coming out to get the air," said Abner, taking another glass. "You couldn't expect beer with the spirit of a hop in it to stay bottled up with a stopper in!"
"I never had such queer feelings," exclaimed Polly, rolling up her eyes; "and now it's all over, I feel as if I was going to faint away."
"I wouldn't advise you to," said Abner, coolly. "The enemy is routed, and victory is ours. Drink a little beer, Polly; it will revive your spirits. But what is the object, may I ask, of your prowling about the house with this poor little girl at this hour of night?"
"Why, what time is it? I thought by my feelings it must have been daybreak long enough ago."
It was Abner's private opinion that Polly would do well to think less of her "feelings" now and always; but he only said, consulting his watch,—
"It's just one o'clock, ladies; time for respectable people to be in bed."
Polly said she had never felt such surprise before in her life. She was afraid she should be sick; for sitting up in the night was always too much for her.
Dotty said her prayers over again, and fell into a sleep "sweeter than a nest of nightingales." And with her last waking thought she thanked God the round red sun was not worn out yet, and the world had not come to an end.