Obviously these young people were much interested in poets and poetry. So Mrs. Oliver said, “On the last night of the year, the Dean usually reads us some poetry, just before the clock strikes. Very often he reads Tennyson’s ‘Ring out, wild bells.’ It is an old family custom of ours,” she added, and they all said what a good one, and how nice it would be. Then Mrs. Oliver told them that they weren’t to dress for dinner, because there was evensong afterwards in the Cathedral, on account of New Year’s Eve. “But you needn’t go unless you want to,” Daphne added, enviously. Herself she had to go, whether she wanted to or not. “I’d like to,” Eileen said. “It’s a way of seeing the Cathedral, of course,” said Eddy. “It’s rather beautiful by candlelight.” So they all settled to go, even Arnold, who thought that of all the ways of seeing the Cathedral, that was the least good. However, he went, and when they came back they settled down for a festive night, playing coon-can and the pianola, and preparing punch, till half-past eleven, when the Dean came in from his study with Tennyson, and read “Ring out, wild bells.” At five minutes to twelve they began listening for the clock to strike, and when it had struck and been duly counted, they drank each other a happy new year in punch, except Jane, who disliked whisky too much to drink it, and had lemonade instead. In short, they formed one of the many happy homes of England who were seeing the old year out in the same cheerful and friendly manner. Having done so, they went to bed. “Eddy in the home is entirely a dear,” Eileen said to Jane, lingering a moment by Jane’s fire before she went to her own. “He’s such--such a good boy, isn’t he?” She leant on the words, with a touch of tenderness and raillery. Then she added, “But, Jane, we shall have his parents shocked before we go. It would be easily done. In fact, I’m not sure we’ve not done it already, a little. Arnold is so reckless, and you so ingenuous, and myself so ambiguous in position. I’ve a fear they think us a little unconventional, no less, and are nervous about our being too much with the pretty little sulky sister. But I expect she’ll see to that herself; we bore her, do you know. And Arnold insists on annoying her, which is tiresome of him.” “She looks rather sweet when she’s cross,” said Jane, regarding the matter professionally. “I should like to draw her then. Eddy’s people are very nice, only not very peaceful, somehow, do you think? I don’t know why, but one feels a little tired after talking much to them; perhaps it’s because of what you say, that they might easily be shocked; and besides, one doesn’t quite always understand what they say. At least, I don’t; but I’m stupid at understanding people, I know.”