“Of course,” she said to herself, “I’ve got Tibbs and Kiddiwee, and although they’re only ’maginary brothers, they do get terrifkly real at times, and I’ve got this pudgy little bronze camel--Miss Smiler--but they don’t make up for Mummie and Daddy, and it seems so long waiting for them to come.” She sat lost in thought for some minutes, then she yawned and lay back on the pillow. The candle winked and spluttered and sent huge shadows dancing upon the walls and ceiling with each flicker. Coppertop wished dreamily that she could be a shadow too, and tried to imagine just how it would feel to be dancing upon the ceilings, and growing suddenly large and small, and long or short, as the shadows seemed to do. “It’s a regular witches’ dance!” she exclaimed. And as she said this, there came a nervous tap-tap at the door. Coppertop lay very still, with a wildly-beating heart, wondering if she had really heard a tap on the door or not. Then a voice said: “Miss Celia! Are you awake?” It was Jane, the maid, who spoke, but in a voice so hushed and mysterious that it sent a shiver down the child’s back. “I--I suppose so,” replied Coppertop, sitting up in bed to make quite sure. “What is it, Jane?” Jane opened the door cautiously, and continued in a hushed voice-- “I hardly think I ought to tell you, seeing it’s so late.” “Tell me what?” asked the child in an excited whisper. “They’re coming home, miss. Mrs. Grudge has had a telegram to say Captain and Mrs. Sinclair will be here to-morrer mornin’, being the first of December!” “GOOD GRACIOUS!” cried Coppertop. And bounding out of bed she dragged the nervous maid into the room by her apron. “Mummie and Daddy coming home!” she cried, “absolutely really-truly! Eeeeeuggh!” and Coppertop gave a shrill squeal of delight, and capered madly about the room. “Oh, hush, miss! If Mrs. Grudge should hear us. I never ought to have told you, only I simply couldn’t ’elp it. You’ll be that excited you’ll never sleep a wink. Lor, here she is!” And at the sound of someone coming along the passage, Jane beat a hasty retreat. Coppertop wanted to rush after her and pour out a string of burning questions--but on second thoughts she remembered Mrs. Grudge, and drew back; it would never do to get Jane into trouble. But whatever would she do? How could she ever get through the long night with all this excitement bottled up inside her? “I believe I shall positively explode!” she muttered, as she clambered back into the old bed. For what seemed long, long ages she lay and tossed from side to side. The night would never pass! The solemn “Tick-tock! Tick-tock!” of the grandfather clock outside her door told her so. “Never-never! Never-never! NEVER-NEVER!” it seemed to say. Her head burned upon the pillow, which seemed to grow larger and larger, till it almost smothered her. She turned it over to the cool side, and closed her eyes tightly. “Never-never! Never-never!” ticked the old clock.