Though we played games after this, and the Bishop made a very satisfactory
lion prowling about in a jungle of wicker chairs and table legs, we none of
us quite lost sight of the adventure in store for us. Somewhere in the back
of our heads lurked the thought of the Dawn with its suggestion of splendid
mystery.
We were no sooner at home again than we set about discussing ways and
means.
"The chief thing," said Angel, "is to waken about four. We have no alarm
clock, so I s'pose we'll just have to take turns in keeping watch all
night. The hall clock strikes, so we can watch hour about."
"I'll take first watch!" put in The Seraph, eagerly.
"You'll take just what's given to you, and no questions, young man," said
Angel, out of the side of his mouth, and The Seraph subsided, crushed.
Came bedtime at last, and the three of us in the big four-poster; the door
shut upon the world of Mrs. Handsomebody, and the windows firmly barred
against burglars and night air.
Angel announced: "First watch for me! You go right to sleep, John, and I'll
wake you when the clock strikes ten. Then you'll feel nice and fresh for
your watch."
But I wasn't at all sleepy and we lay in the dusk and talked till the
familiar harsh voice of the hall clock rasped out nine o'clock.
"You go to sleep, please John," whispered Angel in a drowsy voice, "and
I'll watch till ten."
I felt drowsy too, so I put my arm about the slumbering Seraph and soon
fell fast asleep.
It seemed to me but a moment when Angel roused me. I know I had barely
settled down to an enjoyable dream in which I was the only customer in an
ice-cream parlour, where there were seven waitresses, each one obsequiously
proffering a different flavour.
"Second watch on deck!" whispered Angel, hoarsely--"and look lively!"
"But I'd only just put my spoon in the strawberry ice," I moaned. "Can't be
ten minutes yet."
"Oh, I say," complained Angel, "don't you s'pose I know when the old clock
strikes ten? You've been sleepin' like a drunken pirate and no mistake.
Must be near eleven by now."
"I'll just see for myself," I declared. "I'll go and look at the schoolroom
clock." And I began to scramble over him.
"You will not then--" muttered Angel, clutching me. "I shan't let you!"
"You won't, eh? If it's really ten you needn't care, need you!"
"Course it's ten--It's nearer eleven, but you're going to do what I say."
At that we came to grips and fought and floundered till the bed rocked, and
the poor little Seraph clung to his pillow as a shipwrecked sailor to a
raft in a stormy sea. Exhaustion alone made us stop for breath; still we
clung desperately to each other, our small bodies pressed hotly together,
Angel's nose flattened against my ear. The Seraph snuggled up to us. "Just
you wait"--breathed Angel--his hands tightened on me, then relaxed--his
legs twitched--"Strawberry or pineapple, sir?" came the dulcet tones of the
waitress. I was in my ice-cream parlour again! Seven flavours were laid
before me. I fell to, for I was hot and thirsty.
I was disturbed by The Seraph, singing his morning song. It was a tuneless
drone, yet not unmusical. Always the first to open his eyes in the morning,
he began his day with a sort of Saga of his exploits of the day before,
usually meaningless to us but fraught with colour from his own peculiar
sphere. At last he laughed outright--a Jovian laugh--at some remembered
prank--and I rubbed my eyes and came to full consciousness. The sun was
slanting through the shutters. Where, oh where, was the Dawn?
I turned to look at Angel. He was staring at the slanting beam and swearing
softly, as he well knew how.
"We'll simply have to try again"--I said. "But however are we going to put
in today?"
The problem solved itself as all problems will and the day passed,
following the usual landmarks of porridge, arithmetic, spelling, scoldings,
mutton, a walk with our governess, bread and butter, prayers, and the (for
once, longed for!) _bed_.
That night we decided to lie awake together; passing the time with stories,
and speculation about the mystery so soon to be explored by us. I told the
first story, a long-drawn adventure of shipwreck, mutiny and coral Caves,
with a fair sprinkling of skeletons to keep us broad awake.
"It was a first-rate tale," sighed Angel, contentedly, when I had done,
"an' you told it awfully well, John. If you like you may just tell another
'stead o' me. Or The Seraph can tell one. Go ahead, Seraph, and make up the
best story you know how."
The Seraph, important, but sleepy, climbed over me, so that he might be in
the middle, and then began, in a husky little voice:
"Once upon a time there was fwee bwothers, all vwey nice, but the youngest
was the bwavest an' stwongest of the fwee. He was as stwong as two bulls,
an' he'd kill a dwagon before bweakfast, an' never be cocky about it--"
Angel and I groaned in unison. We could not tolerate this sort of
self-adulation from our junior. "Don't be such a little beast"--we
admonished, and covered his head with a pillow. The Seraph was wont to
accept such discipline, at our hands, philosophically, with no unseemly
outcries or struggles; as a matter of fact, when we uncovered his head, we
could tell by his even, reposeful breathing that he was fast asleep. It was
too dark to see his face, but I could imagine his complacent smile.
The night sped quickly after that. There was some desultory talk; then
Angel, too, slept; I resolved to keep the watch alone. I heard the sound of
footsteps in the street below, echoing, with a lonely sound; the rattle of
a loose shutter in a sudden gust of wind; then, dead silence, followed
after an interval by the scampering, and angry squeak of mice in the
wall....
The mice disturbed me again. There was a shattering of loose plaster; and
suddenly opening my eyes, I saw the ghost of grey daylight stealing
underneath the blind. The time had come!