"Turn off the light," suggested David.
"Oh, yes, Miss Landbury, turn it off, will you?" said Carol pleasantly.
"Who, me?" came the startled voice. "Indeed I won't."
"David, dearest," pleaded Carol weakly.
"Go on parade in my pajamas, dear?" he questioned promptly.
"Let's both go then," compromised Carol, and she and Miss Landbury,
hand in hand, marched like Trojans to the switch in the other room,
Carol clicked the button, and then came a wild and inglorious rush back
to the mattress on the floor.
"Good night, girls."
"Good night, David."
"Good night, Mr. Duke."
"Good night, Miss Landbury."
"Good night, Mrs. Duke."
Then sweet and blessed silence, which lasted for at least five minutes
before there sounded a distinct, persistent rapping on their door.
Carol and Miss Landbury rushed to the protection of each other's arms,
and before David had time to call, the door opened, the switch clicked
once more, and Gooding, his hair sticking out in every possible
direction, his bath robe flapping ungracefully about his knees,
confronted them.
"This is a shame," he began ingratiatingly. "I know it. But I've got
to have some one to talk to. I can't go to sleep and-- Heavens,
what's that on the floor?"
"It is I and my friend, Miss Landbury," said Carol quietly.
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