He kissed her; it was almost like kissing Kay. She held him so tightly that she took away his breath. He drew back, a little thrilled and startled. He looked down. Kay's eyes were closed; Glory's were smiling up at him, timid with puzzled longing. Years later he was to remember that. Then, yet more distant, the waits re-commenced, like the feet of Jesus bringing peace to sinful men. And that also he would remember. Back in bed he lay very still. The fear had gone out of him; once again the world seemed kind and gentle. “Christ was born this morning,” he whispered; “Christ was born this morning. Oh Jesus, who came into the world a little boy just like Peter, you can understand. I'm so troubled. Oh Jesus----” But sleep was sent in answer to his prayer. It was dark when he awoke. What was it he had been dreaming? Ah yes!--He rose stealthily and dressed. The morning was chilly. His teeth chattered and shivers ran through him; that wasn't all due to coldness. Without looking at the packages on his bed, he stole across the landing and down the stairs. Outside the servants' room he listened. One of them was snoring loudly; that was reassuring. As he drew further away from the bedrooms, he moved more hurriedly. All the time he was expecting to hear a door open and to see a head peering over the banisters. Having reached the hall, he ran down into the basement, taking less care to make no sound. His feet on the stone flags of the kitchen seemed as loud as those of a procession marching. Something brushed against his legs. He jumped aside with a cry of terror. It came again, a shadow following. Then he saw that it was only Romance. What was it he must get? It was difficult to think; a hammer was knocking, in his temples. He felt along the dresser; sent a pan clattering; stood tense, listening; found what he sought; struck a match and lit the gas The light helped him to think more clearly, but it also convicted him of wrong doing. Everything he saw, even Romance looking up at him unblinking, seemed to say, “I shall tell. I shall tell.” Things looked cheerless. Chairs were pushed back from the table, just as they had been left by the servants. The grate was choked with ashes, in which a few coals glowered red. But he must hurry. What was it he must get? In the pantry there were sausage-rolls--so many that no one would miss a few of them. There were loaves of bread, an uncut ham from which Peter took some slices, a jug of milk from which he took a glassful, making up the deficit with water, and a dish of baked apples. He helped himself, feeling horribly thief-like. Then he thought of how cold it was out there. He crept upstairs to the cloakroom and unhooked one of his father's coats from its peg. He returned and took a cushion from Cookie's favorite chair in which the cane was broken and sagging. Thus loaded, he unlocked the door into the garden, closing it behind him, and shuffled out.