"’Let us now consider our blessings—never mind the bad things. Let them go. Consider the good things. The bad things will have more than their share of our thoughts, you may be very sure!’" So Nell got her hands into position to tick off her blessings. "First, there’s Denis." She paused; her slim body grew tense with sudden horror, as the thought gripped her: "Suppose Denis had gone, too!" With an impulsiveness that was characteristic she slipped from the bed to the floor, seized up her dressing-gown, ran out on to the landing and upstairs to his room. "Come in!" She opened the door and was nearly blown backward down the stairs by the gale that met her. Denis was sitting up in bed. "You, old girl? Anything up?" She stood in the doorway, her dressing-gown streaming out around her, her hair blowing across her face. She laughed uncertainly. "Come out of that! Shut the door, you goose. And why on earth don’t you furl your sails? Anything wrong with the Atom?" She shut the door with slow care. "No," she said; "she’s pretending to be asleep." There was a little pause. She buttoned up her dressing-gown slowly. "You’re not walking in your sleep, are you?" he suggested, with a little laugh. He swung himself off the bed and came towards her; he put his hands on her shoulders. "Now, twin, out with it! What did you come for, eh?" She gave a little childish struggle under his warm hands; she looked up into his face. "I had to, Denis! A dreadful conviction has come upon me that she’ll give us soft-boiled eggs for breakfast!" He swung her softly to and fro. "Well, you needn’t have come to give me nightmare just because you’re going to have it! Was it the action of a twin, I ask?" She laughed softly, irresistibly. "Oh, oh, Denis, your floor’s swamped! What will Aunt Kezia say?" He turned his head lazily and surveyed the floor over by the window. "It’ll dry," he observed with equanimity. She eyed the window, flung as wide as it would go. "You _mustn’t_ have it so wide, Denis! You really mustn’t!" "D’you want to murder your twin? Why, I’d be dying of suffocation! There’re _roofs_ all round, Nell! Beastly houses stuck all on top of us—almost in our back yard! I can’t get a breath of air even now!" The toilet cover was wildly fluttering its corners; a towel had been blown from the towel horse and danced merrily in a corner; one curtain was streaming, a wet limp rag, out into the night, the other was whirling in graceful curves across the room; Denis’s tie had twined itself round the leg of a chair. She gave a little laugh. "If you won’t shut the window, I will! And," glancing down at her bare toes, "I don’t feel the least bit inclined to paddle just now." "Then don’t." "But you _will_ shut it—" "But I won’t!" She looked out into the darkness where the curtain waved forlornly. "Seriously, Denis—" "Seriously, Nell, it’s in bed you ought to be, not to mention your poor twin!" "You see, I’ve got a conscience."