Rosemary answered her brother's question characteristically.  
"Oh, Hugh! I'd love to."
 
"Well, don't tell Sarah or Shirley," he cautioned, "because I don't want a riot—wait till they have gone to bed and then at nine o'clock, if you really want to try the experiment, you may."
 
"Won't Mother care?" asked Rosemary doubtfully.
 
"I've talked it over with Mother, and she is willing to let you try the plan while I am here," said the doctor. "It is a clear warm night and too early in the season for heavy dews, so there could not be a better time. You'd find it harder to go to sleep if there were a moon, so that's in your favor, too."
 
"I wouldn't want to sleep outdoors on a moonlight night," declared Rosemary decidedly. "Old Fiddlestrings—Warren says everyone calls him that—would be walking up and down the road, playing the 'Serenade.' I'd rather sleep outdoors in the dark—as soon as you are used to it, it isn't dark at all and I love to see the stars."
 
It seemed to Rosemary that Sarah and Shirley must have turned back the hands of the clock to delay their bed hour. They monopolized² their brother, seated on either side of him in the porch swing while the summer dusk slowly deepened and Mrs. Willis rested in the big chair which had an arm strong and broad enough to hold Rosemary who knitted with outward calm and inward fever. Were those children never going to bed?
 
Winnie had gone over to the bungalow⁴ with Mrs. Hildreth, who was delighted to have someone with whom to exchange household lore⁵, and Warren and Richard had tactfully betaken themselves to Bennington, knowing instinctively⁶ that Doctor Hugh would like to have his family to himself for one brief evening, after a week's separation.
 
"Too dark to knit, Rosemary," he said at last. "And don't turn on the light, dear; can't you be content to do nothing for a little while?"
 
"Time for bed, Shirley," announced Mrs. Willis. "Run along and see how nearly undressed you can be before Mother comes up."
 
Shirley obediently clambered down and looked at them wistfully. Her bed hour was half-past seven and Sarah had the privilege of staying up till eight o'clock. She clung jealously to this prerogative⁷ and as a rule nothing would induce her to go to bed when Shirley did. She might fall asleep on sofa or rug, but she would protest vigorously, if sent upstairs before the eight strokes of the clock were heard. Thirty minutes at bed-time marked the difference to Sarah between six and nine years old.
 
"I'll come up with you to-night, honey," said Doctor Hugh. "I don't believe I've forgotten how to put you to bed. Sit still, Mother."
 
"Are you going to tell a story, Hugh?" asked Sarah anxiously. "Are you, Hugh?"
 
"Will you, Hugh?" begged Shirley. "Tell about the little boy in the hospital who wouldn't eat his supper? Will you, Hugh?"
 
"All right, I will," promised the doctor, "if you'll march upstairs this minute."
 
"I'm coming, too," announced Sarah. "I was up early this morning, wasn't I, Mother?"
 
"Yes indeed you were," agreed her mother, catching⁸ her as she scrambled⁹ past and holding her tightly—Sarah usually had to be caught or pursued if one wanted to kiss her. "Kiss Mother good night, dearest."
 
Mrs. Willis understood perfectly¹⁰ that Sarah was saving her pride when she spoke¹¹ of being up early that morning—some excuse had to be made to explain her willingness to go to bed when Shirley did.
 
"If Sarah had known I'm going to sleep outdoors to-night, she would have been wild to come, too," said Rosemary, when she and her mother were left alone.
 
"Are you sure you want to try it, dear?" asked Mrs. Willis.
 
"Why Mother, I've always wanted to sleep outdoors!" cried Rosemary earnestly. "I'm so tired of ordinary beds and houses—and—and things. It will be perfectly lovely to lie under a tree and see the stars over my head and pretend I am out on the desert. I'd like to sleep outdoors every night."
 
When Doctor Hugh came down to report that both little girls were asleep, he found his mother and sister knitting under the shaded porch light.
 
"I don't approve of night work for women," he informed them gravely. "Especially for those who have had as active a day as you have had. You don't want to knit, do you, Mother?"
 
She put down her work at once and smiled.
 
"I'll play for you," she said quickly and went in to the piano.
 
Doctor Hugh sat down in the swing and patted the pillows invitingly¹². Rosemary, fastening her needles securely in place, put down her work a little reluctantly and crossed over to the swing. But when he put his arm about her and she leaned back against the cushions, her head on his comfortable shoulder, she gave a little tired sigh of relief. A big brother was nice!
 
And as the music drifted out to them—all the sweet old melodies the doctor loved best, played as only Mrs. Willis could play them—Rosemary felt her impatience¹³ and hurry slipping away. She who had been so eager to have nine o'clock come, so anxious to get the evening over so that she might be free to put her wish into practise, began to wish that she could stay up later than usual.
 
"Ten minutes after nine," said Doctor Hugh, all too soon. "I must help you get your sleeping outfit¹⁴ together."
 
"Oh, I'll just take a quilt and spread it out and then roll myself up in it," planned Rosemary.
 
But Doctor Hugh insisted on a rubber sheet, to go under the heavy quilt and insure positive protection from dampness; and blankets, he declared, would be indispensable. He arranged the quilt under a maple¹⁵ tree—the tree most distant from the house—which was Rosemary's choice, carried out a pair of light blankets and parried Winnie's volley of questions good-naturedly when she came in from visiting Mrs. Hildreth and discovered what he was doing.
 
"Well, Rosemary, I see you're going to have your own way and I only hope you don't regret it," was Winnie's greeting when Rosemary danced out, a dark kimono over her gown and moccasins on her feet.
 
"I won't,&quo............