"Tell me a story before you go," pleaded Dickie, holding her tight.
"Oh, not to-night, darling, because I shall be late to Jane's if I do." She kissed him hastily.
"I don't think it's nice at all to go to bed when the sun hasn't sit, and I'm not sleepy a bit, and there isn't nothing to play with," remarked Dick, plaintively.
"You'll fall asleep in a minute or two, Goosey, then you won't want any thing to play with," said Mally, hurrying away.
"I'm not a goosey," shouted Dick after her. Ten minutes later, as she was tying her bonnet strings, she heard him calling from the top of the stairs.
"What is it, Dickie?"
"I'm not a goose. Goosies has feathers. They say 'quack.'"
"You're the kind that hasn't feathers and doesn't say quack," replied Mally from below. "No, darling, you're not a goose; you're Mally's good boy. Now, run back to bed."
"Yes, I will," replied Dick, satisfied by this concession. He climbed into bed again, and lay watching the pink patch on the wall. Yellow bars began to appear and to dance in the midst of the pink.
"Like teeny-weeney little ladders," thought Dick. There was a ladder outside his door, at top of which was a scuttle opening on to the roof. Dickie turned his head to look at the ladder. The scuttle-door stood open; from above, the pink light streamed in and lay on the rungs of the ladder.