"It—it’s nice, sometimes." He punched Ted on the back. "Beg pardon—thought you were the easel, old chap!" Ted punched back. "Awfully sorry—thought you were the sofa cushion!" "Great Scott!" ejaculated Denis, with overdone dismay. "Won’t be a minute—forgot—" and he strode from the room. Nell sat down suddenly, and hid her face in her hands. She knew quite well that Denis was now crawling about under his bed in search of the stocking. Presently he reappeared, and worked his way round to her. Ted was urging a political argument with the Atom. Under cover of it Denis began. "Beastly stocking isn’t there!" "If it were, why would the lamp be out, you goose?" "Never thought of that!" He gave a chuckle. "It’s under the table! It’s not packed properly yet. Get Ted up to your room. I’ll put it in mine." "Right you are." "I say, what on earth am I kicking under here?" came from Ted suddenly. "Ugh, it feels like a corpulent corpse." He stooped to peer under the table. Molly cried out; he dropped the cloth and turned round. "Did you hurt yourself?" "I say, old man," Denis flung his arm round his shoulders and dragged him towards the door, "you might come up now and look at that book of Heller’s I was telling you about. It’s in my room." "All right, but I’ve a conviction it’s Herr Schmidt under that table!" When they returned to the Stronghold all was light and innocent and calm. Denis made some excuse and went away. Nell glanced several times at Ted. She guessed he had been doing too much; his face was pale and there were dark rings round his eyes. All the mother in her surged up; she smiled whimsically as she wondered if he would be astonished if she were to go and stroke his head, as she felt inclined to do. She went and sat on the rug by the fire and looked at him softly. "Ted," she said, "I wish you were going to spend to-morrow with us." "Do you really?" He looked tremendously pleased. She nodded. "You’ll spend New Year’s day with us, won’t you?" "Rather. But the Governor and I always spend Christmas with my aunt. They have a large house party every year." "It’ll be more fun for you than here." "Will it?" She pulled Kate Kearney on to her lap, and stroked her long ears thoughtfully. "When did your mother die, Teddie?" "When I was four." "Do you remember her?" "A little. I can remember hiding behind a curtain and watching, with all my head stuck out, a lady all in pale yellow hunting in the vases and under the table for me. Other bits I can remember, too. And I remember screaming and howling because I didn’t like the black frock they put me into." She gazed into the fire in silence. Then impulsively she stretched out her arm and laid her hand on his knee. "Teddie, will you promise me to go to bed at ten to-night?" "At ten?" He lifted his eyebrows in surprise. "Yes. _Please_," she coaxed. "But why?" "If I tell you, you’ll get grumpy." "No, I won’t." "Well, then, you’re done up."