“He’s Ted’s age. Boys that age may be inclined to drive too fast, but they drive pretty well.”
“How do you know?”
“Well, I’ve watched some of them drive.”
“Yes, but not all of them.”
“I doubt whether anybody in the world has seen every nineteen-year-old boy drive.”
“Boys these days seem so kind of irresponsible.”
“Oh, don’t worry! They probably met some of their young friends and stopped for a bite to eat or something.” Tom got up and walked to the window with studied carelessness. “It’s a pretty night,” he said. “You can see every star in the sky.”
But he wasn’t looking at the stars. He was looking down the road for headlights. There were none in sight and after a few moments he returned to his chair.
“What time is it?” asked Grace.
“Twenty-two of,” he said.
“Of what?”
“Of three.”
“Your watch must have stopped. Nearly an hour ago you told me it was half past two.”
“My watch is all right. You probably dozed off.”
“I haven’t closed my eyes.”
“Well, it’s time you did. Why don’t you go to bed?”
“Why don’t you?”
“I’m not sleepy.”
“Neither am I. But honestly, Tom, it’s silly for you to stay up. I’m just doing it so I can fix the stockings, and because I feel so wakeful. But there’s no use of your losing your sleep.”
“I couldn’t sleep a wink till they’re home.”
“That’s foolishness! There’s nothing to worry about. They’re just having a good time. You were young once yourself.”
“That’s just it! When I was young, I was young.” He picked up his paper and tried to get interested in the shipping news.
“What time is it?” asked Grace.
“Five minutes of three.”
“Maybe they’re staying at the Murdocks’ all night.”
“They’d have let us know.”
“They were afraid to wake us up, telephoning.”
At three twenty a car stopped at the front gate.
“There they are!”
“I told you there was nothing to worry about.”
Tom went to the window. He could just discern the outlines of the Murdock boy’s roadster, whose lighting system seemed to have broken down.
“He hasn’t any lights,” said Tom. “Maybe I’d better go out and see if I can fix them.”
“No, don’t!” said Grace sharply. “He can fix them himself. He’s just saving them while he stands still.”
“Why don’t they come in?”
“They’re probably making plans.”
“They can make them in here. I’ll go out and tell them we’re still up.”
“No, don’t!” said Grace as before, and Tom obediently remained at the window.
It was nearly four when the car lights flashed on and the car drove away. Caroline walked into the house and stared dazedly at her parents.
“Heavens! What are you doing up?”
Tom was about to say something, but Grace forestalled him.
“We were talking over old Christmases,” she said. “Is it very late?”
“I haven’t any idea,” said Caroline.
“Where is Ted?”
“Isn’t he home? I haven’t seen him since we dropped him at the hockey place.”
“Well, you go right to bed,” said her mother. “You must be worn out.”
“I am, kind of. We danced after the play. What time is breakfast?”
“Eight o’clock.”
“Oh, Mother, can’t you make it nine?”
“I guess so. You used to want to get up early on Christmas.”
“I know, but—”
“Who brought you home?” asked Tom.
“Why, Paul Murdock—and Beatrice.”
“You look rumpled.”
“They made me sit in the ‘rumple’ seat.”
She laughed at her joke, said good night and went upstairs. She had not come even within handshaking distance of her father and mother.
“The Murdocks,” said Tom, “must have great manners, making their guest ride in that uncomfortable seat.”
Grace was silent.
“You go to bed, too,” said Tom. “I’ll wait for Ted.”
“You couldn’t fix the stockings.”
“I won’t try. We’ll have time for that in the morning; I mean, later in the morning.”
“I’m not going to bed till you do,” said Grace.
“All right, we’ll both go. Ted ought not to be long now. I suppose his friends will bring him home. We’ll hear him when he comes in.”
There was no chance not to hear him when, at ten minutes before six, he came in. He had done his Christmas shopping late and brought home a package.
Grace was downstairs again at half past seven, telling the servants breakfast would be postponed till nine. She nailed the stockings beside the fireplace, went into the music-room to see that nothing had been disturbed and removed Ted’s hat and overcoat from where he had carefully hung them on the hall floor.
Tom appeared a little before nine and suggested that the children ought to be awakened.
“I’ll wake them,” said Grace, and went upstairs. She opened Ted’s door, looked, and softly closed it again. She entered her daughter’s room and found Caroline semiconscious.
“Do I have to get up now? Honestly I can’t eat anything. If you could just have Molla bring me some coffee. Ted and I are both invited to the Murdock’s for breakfast at half past twelve, and I could sleep for another hour or two.”
“But dearie, don’t you know we have Christmas dinner at one?”
“It’s a shame, Mother, but I thought of course our dinner would be at night.”
“Don’t you want to see your presents?”
“Certainly I do, but can’t they wait?”
Grace was about to go to the kitchen to tell the cook that dinner would be at seven instead of one, but she remembered having promised Signe the afternoon and evening off, as a cold, light supper would be all anyone wanted after the heavy midday meal.
Tom and Grace breakfasted alone and once more sat in the living-room, talking, thinking and pretending to read.
“You ought to speak to Caroline,” said Tom.
“I will, but not today. It’s Christmas.”
“And I intend to say a few words to Ted.”
“Yes, dear, you must. But not today.”
“I suppose they’ll be out again tonight.”
“No, they promised to stay home. We’ll have a nice cozy evening.”
“Don’t bet too much on that,” said Tom.
At noon the “children” made their entrance and responded to their parents’ salutations with almost the proper warmth. Ted declined a cup of coffee and he and Caroline apologized for making a “breakfast” date at the Murdocks’.
“Sis and I both thought
