"How would you like to try sleeping outdoors to-night, Rosemary?" asked Doctor Hugh placidly. CHAPTER IX ONE WISH COMES TRUE 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?"