or put away since we ceased to use them?"

"No," said Betty gravely. "You see, if they are on the spare-room bed
they are all out in readiness for when we want them."

"And for the moths when they want them," sighed her father. "I expect
they will not leave much for us."

Kitty, her father's half-jesting words filling her with a deep alarm,
had meanwhile raced up to the spare room. Somehow, on this dreadful
day, anything seemed possible, certainly anything that was terrible, and
she remembered suddenly that the spare bedroom was the very hottest room
in the house. It was over the kitchen, and caught every possible gleam
of sunshine from morning till evening. Also she knew Betty's
thoroughness only too well, and her mind's eye saw poor little Tony
buried deep and tucked in completely, head and all.

The whole house was stiflingly hot. Kitty's own face grew crimson with
her race upstairs, and when she opened the door of the spare bedroom the
heat positively poured out; but a terrible load was lifted from her
mind, for, mercifully, Tony's head was uncovered. He was the colour of
a crimson peony, it is true, but at any rate he was not suffocated,
unless--Kitty stepped quickly forward and touched his cheek. It almost
made her sick with dread to do so; but the red cheek was very, very hot
and lifelike to the touch, and at the same moment Tony opened a y pair
of large sleepy eyes, and stared up at his sister wonderingly.

"I'm not struck, am I?" he asked half nervously. "I am very hot, Kitty.
Is it the lightning?"