chairs to sit on. Ah hum! Let's turn in, Phil. We've a tight room and a
fire, anyhow. Shall you be warm enough?"

"Plenty. I've my coat, and a sweater. But what are you going to do?"

"Oh, I'll sit up a bit longer and stoke. And really, Kirk's overcoat
spreads out farther than you'd think. He's tallish, nowadays."

Felicia discovered that there are ways and ways of sleeping on the
floor. She found, after sundry writhings, the right way, and drifted off
to sleep long before she expected to.

Ken woke later in the stillness of the last hours of night. The room was
scarcely lit by the smoldering brands of the fire; its silence hardly
stirred by the murmurous hissing of the logs. Without, small marsh frogs
trilled their silver welcome to the spring, an unceasing jingle of tiny
bell-notes. Kirk was cuddled close beside Ken, and woke abruptly as Ken
drew him nearer.

"You didn't take your overcoat," he whispered.

"We'll both have it, now," his brother said. "Curl up tight, old man;
it'll wrap round the two of us."

"Is it night still?" Kirk asked.

"Black night," Ken whispered; "stars at the window, and a tree swaying
across it. And in here a sort of dusky lightness--dark in the corners,
and shadows on the walls, and the fire glowing away. Phil's asleep on
the other side of the hearth, and she looks very nice. And listen--hear