Good-byes had really been said at intervals all day long, and so to- night were slight enough; the children, besides, were so 'excitey- tired,' as Monkey put it, that they possessed no more emotion of any kind. There were various disagreeable things in the immediate future of To-morrow--getting up early, school, and so forth; and Cousin Henry's departure they lumped in generally with the mass, accepted but unrealised. Jimbo could hardly keep his eyes alight, and Monkey's hair was like a baby haystack the wind had treated to an equinoctial storm. Jinny, stiff, perplexed, and solemn with exhaustion, yet dared not betray it because she was older, in measurable distance of her hair going up. 'Why don't you play with the others, child?' asked Mother, finding her upright on a sofa while the romp went on. 'Oh, to-night,' Jinny explained, 'I sit indifferent and look on. I don't always feel like skedivvying about!' To skedivvy was to chivvy and skedaddle--its authority not difficult to guess. 'Good-bye, Cousinenry,' each gasped, as his big arms went round them and squeezed out the exclamation. 'Oh, thank you most awfully,' came next, with another kiss, produced by his pressing something hard and round and yellow into each dirty little hand. 'It's only a bit of crystallised starlight,' he explained, 'that escaped long ago from the Cave. And starlight, remember, shines for everybody as well as for yourselves. You can buy a stamp with it occasionally, too,' he added, 'and write to me.' 'We will. Of course!' Jimbo straightened up a moment before the final collapse of sleep. 'Your train leaves at 6.23,' he said, with the authority of exclusive information. 'You must be at the station at six to get the _bagages enregistrees_. It's a slow train to Pontarlier, but you'll find a _wagon direct_ for Paris in front, next to the engine. I shall be at the station to see you off.' '_I_ shan't,' said Monkey. Rogers realised with delight the true meaning of these brief and unemotional good-byes. 'They know I'm coming back; they feel that the important part of me is not going away at all. My thinking stays here with them.' Jinny lingered another ten minutes for appearance's sake. It was long past her bed-time, too, but dignity forbade her retiring with the others. Standing by the window she made conversation a moment, feeling it was the proper, grown-up thing to do. It was even expected of her. 'Look! It's full moon,' she observed gravely, as though suggesting that she could, if she liked, go out and enjoy the air. 'Isn't it lovely?' 'No, yesterday was full moon,' Rogers corrected her, joining her and looking out. 'Two nights ago, to be exact, I think.' 'Oh,' she replied, as solemnly as though politics or finance were under discussion, 'then it's bigger than full moon now. It goes on, does it, getting fuller and fuller, till--' 'Now, Jinny dear, it's very late, and you'd better full-moon off to bed,' Mother interrupted gently.