“Did you make that confounded row kicking boots about the passage?” spluttered the man of wrath.

“No, Father,” said William, gently.  “I’ve not bin kickin’ no boots about.”

“Were you down on the lower landing just now?” said Mr. Brown, with compressed fury.

William considered this question silently for a few seconds, then spoke up brightly and innocently.

“I dunno, Father.  You see, some folks walk in their sleep and when they wake up they dunno where they’ve bin.  Why, I’ve heard of a man walkin’ down a fire escape in his sleep, and then he woke up and couldn’t think how he’d got to be there where he was.  You see, he didn’t know he’d walked down all them steps sound asleep, and——­”

“Be quiet,” thundered his father.  “What in the name of——­what on earth are you doing making your bed in the middle of the night?  Are you insane?”

William, perfectly composed, tucked in one end of his sheet.

“No Father, I’m not insane.  My sheet just fell off me in the night and I got out to pick it up.  I must of bin a bit restless, I suppose.  Sheets come off easy when folks is restless in bed, and they don’t know anythin’ about it till they wake up jus’ same as sleep walkin’.  Why, I’ve heard of folks——­”

“Be quiet——!”

At that moment William’s mother arrived, placid as ever, in her dressing gown, carrying a candle.

“Look at him,” said Mr. Brown, pointing at the meek-looking William.

“He plays Rugger up and down the passage with the boots all night and then he begins to make his bed.  He’s mad.  He’s——­”

William turned his calm gaze upon him.

“I wasn’t playin’ Rugger with the boots, Father,” he said, patiently.

Mrs. Brown laid her hand soothingly upon her husband’s arm.

“You know, dear,” she said, gently, “a house is always full of noises at night.  Basket chairs creaking——­”

Mr. Brown’s face grew purple.

“Basket chairs——!” he exploded, violently, but allowed himself to be led unresisting from the room.

William finished his bed-making with his usual frown of concentration, then, lying down, fell at once into the deep sleep of childish innocence.

But Cousin Mildred was lying awake, a blissful smile upon her lips.  She, too, was now one of the elect, the chosen.  Her rather deaf ears had caught the sound of supernatural thunder as her ghostly visitant departed, and she had beamed with ecstatic joy.

“Honk,” she murmured, dreamily.  “Honk, Yonk, Ponk.”

* * * * *

William felt rather tired the next evening.  Cousin Mildred had departed leaving him a handsome present of a large box of chocolates.  William had consumed these with undue haste in view of possible maternal interference.  His broken night was telling upon his spirits.  He felt distinctly depressed and saw the world through jaundiced eyes.  He sat in the shrubbery, his chin in his hand, staring moodily at the adoring mongrel, Jumble.