"Sit down, and let's be cozy. I will sit in the tired one's chair, and
you can sit on that little stool at my feet. Now isn't that nice?"

"Who do you mean by the tired one?"

"Your mother, silly boy, of course."

"It is a very ridiculous name to call her."

"It belongs to the Palace of Home Truths. Your mother is tired, and
you--you lazy omadhauns--"

"Well, go on," said Ben. "I see by your manner that you want me to do
something. I suppose it's something a little bit--a little bit not quite
good."

"It is perfectly good. I'll love you ever so much if you will do it."

"What is it?"

"I am going out this evening. I may not be in until late. If the others
are in bed, will you come and unlock the door for me when I throw gravel
up at your window? You must tell me which is your window."

"I sleep in the north attic. It doesn't look out on to the street; and I
can't--I can't possibly do it."

"You can come down and wait for me in the hall."

"How can I?"