“They were sound asleep upstairs, and didn't know anything about it until Christmas morning. Come on now, it's time for bed.”
“We can undress ourselves now,” said Groups.
“Will you tuck me in?” said Bunks.
“You're sure he had another typewriter in his bag?” said Yelpers.
They scrambled upstairs.
Later, when the house was quiet, Gissing went out to the kitchen to see Mrs. Spaniel. She was diligently rolling pastry, and her nose was white with flour.
“Oh, sir, I'm glad you got home in time for Christmas,” she said. “The children were counting on it. Did you have a successful trip, sir?”
“Every trip is successful when you get home again,” said Gissing. “I suppose the shops will be open late to-night, won't they? I'm going to run down to the village to get some toys.”
Before leaving the house, he went down to the cellar to see if the furnace was all right. He was amazed to see how naturally and cheerfully he had slipped back into the old sense of responsibility. Where was the illusory freedom he had dreamed of? Even the epiphany on the hilltop
