rosemary answered her brother's question characteristically.
"oh, hugh! i'd love to."
"well, don't tell sarah or shirley," he cautioned, "because i don't want a riot—wait till they have gone to bed and then at nine o'clock, if you really want to try the experiment, you may."
"won't mother care?" asked rosemary doubtfully.
"i've talked it over with mother, and she is willing to let you try the plan while i am here," said the doctor. "it is a clear warm night and too early in the season for heavy dews, so there could not be a better time. you'd find it harder to go to sleep if there were a moon, so that's in your favor, too."
"i wouldn't want to sleep outdoors on a moonlight night," declared rosemary decidedly. "old fiddlestrings—warren says everyone calls him that—would be walking up and down the road, playing the 'serenade.' i'd rather sleep outdoors in the dark—as soon as you are used to it, it isn't dark at all and i love to see the stars."
it seemed to rosemary that sarah and shirley must have turned back the hands of the clock to delay their bed hour. they monopolized their brother, seated on either side of him in the porch swing while the summer dusk slowly deepened and mrs. willis rested in the big chair which had an arm strong and broad enough to hold rosemary who knitted with outward calm and inward fever. were those children never going to bed?
winnie had gone over to the bungalow with mrs. hildreth, who was delighted to have someone with whom to exchange household lore, and warren and richard had tactfully betaken themselves to bennington, knowing instinctively that doctor hugh would like to have his family to himself for one brief evening, after a week's separation.
"too dark to knit, rosemary," he said at last. "and don't turn on the light, dear; can't you be content to do nothing for a little while?"
"time for bed, shirley," announced mrs. willis. "run along and see how nearly undressed you can be before mother comes up."
shirley obediently clambered down and looked at them wistfully. her bed hour was half-past seven and sarah had the privilege of staying up till eight o'clock. she clung jealously to this prerogative and as a rule nothing would induce her to go to bed when shirley did. she might fall asleep on sofa or rug, but she would protest vigorously, if sent upstairs before the eight strokes of the clock were heard. thirty minutes at bed-time marked the difference to sarah between six and nine years old.
"i'll come up with you to-night, honey," said doctor hugh. "i don't believe i've forgotten how to put you to bed. sit still, mother."
"are you going to tell a story, hugh?" asked sarah anxiously. "are you, hugh?"
"will you, hugh?" begged shirley. "tell about the little boy in the hospital who wouldn't eat his supper? will you, hugh?"
"all right, i will," promised the doctor, "if you'll march upstairs this minute."
"i'm coming, too," announced sarah. "i was up early this morning, wasn't i, mother?"
"yes indeed you were," agreed her mother, catching her as she scrambled past and holding her tightly—sarah usually had to be caught or pursued if one wanted to kiss her. "kiss mother good night, dearest."
mrs. willis understood perfectly that sarah was saving her pride when she spoke of being up early that morning—some excuse had to be made to explain her willingness to go to bed when shirley did.
"if sarah had known i'm going to sleep outdoors to-night, she would have been wild to come, too," said rosemary, when she and her mother were left alone.
"are you sure you want to try it, dear?" asked mrs. willis.
"why mother, i've always wanted to sleep outdoors!" cried rosemary earnestly. "i'm so tired of ordinary beds and houses—and—and things. it will be perfectly lovely to lie under a tree and see the stars over my head and pretend i am out on the desert. i'd like to sleep outdoors every night."
when doctor hugh came down to report that both little girls were asleep, he found his mother and sister knitting under the shaded porch light.
"i don't approve of night work for women," he informed them gravely. "especially for those who have had as active a day as you have had. you don't want to knit, do you, mother?"
she put down her work at once and smiled.
"i'll play for you," she said quickly and went in to the piano.
doctor hugh sat down in the swing and patted the pillows invitingly. rosemary, fastening her needles securely in place, put down her work a little reluctantly and crossed over to the swing. but when he put his arm about her and she leaned back against the cushions, her head on his comfortable shoulder, she gave a little tired sigh of relief. a big brother was nice!
and as the music drifted out to them—all the sweet old melodies the doctor loved best, played as only mrs. willis could play them—rosemary felt her impatience and hurry slipping away. she who had been so eager to have nine o'clock come, so anxious to get the evening over so that she might be free to put her wish into practise, began to wish that she could stay up later than usual.
"ten minutes after nine," said doctor hugh, all too soon. "i must help you get your sleeping outfit together."
"oh, i'll just take a quilt and spread it out and then roll myself up in it," planned rosemary.
but doctor hugh insisted on a rubber sheet, to go under the heavy quilt and insure positive protection from dampness; and blankets, he declared, would be indispensable. he arranged the quilt under a maple tree—the tree most distant from the house—which was rosemary's choice, carried out a pair of light blankets and parried winnie's volley of questions good-naturedly when she came in from visiting mrs. hildreth and discovered what he was doing.
"well, rosemary, i see you're going to have your own way and i only hope you don't regret it," was winnie's greeting when rosemary danced out, a dark kimono over her gown and moccasins on her feet.
"i won't," rosemary replied confidently.
"of course i won't," she said to herself stoutly, when she was curled up on a quilt, under the blankets. "this is heaps of fun!"
she could see the light from the porch lamp which made a golden shaft through the wire netting into the darkness of the night. over her head the stars twinkled and the leafy branches of the maple spread out like a network.
pouf!—rosemary scrambled to her feet, brushing at her face frantically.
"something fell on me!" she gasped. "a bug—i'm almost sure it was a bug!"
but after feeling around on the quilt and finding nothing that felt like a bug, she decided that after all it might have been a leaf. she didn't mind the thought of a leaf tumbling down on her nose, so she carefully smoothed out the tumbled quilt, shook the blanket and laid them straight and went to bed again.
usually she fell asleep readily, but to-night she did not feel sleepy.
"i wonder what time it is?" she meditated, turning sideways so that if another leaf—or bug—should drop it would not fall on her face. "i wish i'd brought my little clock."
presently she heard the sound of horse's hoofs on the road, soon saw the winking white light turn into the drive that led to the barn. she watched it moving slowly forward, saw it stop and knew that richard and warren were harnessing outside the barn. in another moment the light flickered out as warren backed the runabout into the shed and richard led the horse to a stall. the hollow echo of the barn door as richard slammed and bolted it, came next. she thought she could see the dim outline of two figures walking toward the bungalow but that might have been imagination.
rosemary sighed and twisted about uneasily to face the other way. the porch light was out! that meant her mother and hugh had gone to bed and she was utterly alone on the lawn. she felt inexplicably abandoned—hugh might have whistled to her, to see if she were asleep, before he turned off the light. that, thought rosemary, would not have been much to do.
she decided to lie flat on her back for a while. in that position she might begin to feel sleepy. it was not a pitch-black night, indeed the darkness seemed half luminous—the kind of light in which, after the eyes have grown accustomed to it, it is possible to make out the outlines of objects quite plainly. rosemary knew she could not be mistaken when she saw a shadowy form on the other side of the lawn.
she sat up with a jerk, staring. yes, something was certainly moving. frantically she recalled her arguments that all animals slept at night. how foolish she had been to advance a statement of that sort. vividly now she remembered stories heard and read of night marauders—foxes, weasels—skunks! these prowled about at night and she wouldn't care to come in contact with any of them.
"snakes!" whispered rosemary with a sudden prickling of her scalp. "do they go around at night, i wonder? sarah would know."
but sarah, the naturalist, was safely asleep in her own bed. rosemary suddenly envied both her sisters. she remembered that mrs. hildreth had spoken of the warfare she waged against rats which tried to carry off the young poultry at night—rosemary, in imagination, could picture a procession of rats running over her as she slept, on their way to the hen houses.
she got gingerly to her feet, straining her eyes to see the moving object. what could it be? something brushed past her, close to her face. instantly winnie's horror of bats came to the girl's nervous mind.
"if the screen door is unlocked, i'm going in," whispered rosemary, gathering her kimono tightly about her. "sarah may like animals but i don't."
she started as the mournful cry of a hoot owl sounded in the distance—and then something cold and wet touched her hand! with one bound rosemary cleared the quilt and ran like a deer across the grass. the shadowy object she had seen came toward her, moving slowly. rosemary dodged, tripped on her kimono and fell.
she was up again in a moment and running again, her breath coming in little sobbing gasps. jack welles had once said that she did not "happen to be the screaming kind of girl" and though terrified now she made no outcry. she gained the porch step, tugged frantically at the screen door and felt it open in her grasp. she pitched forward, striking her knee against a chair and felt herself caught in a strong, firm clasp. for a moment she struggled furiously and silently and then realization came to her.
"oh, hugh!" she cried. "hugh! there's something out there!"
