So far the young eyes unclosed as to see that they could see
nothing--unless the flame of a wind-tossed candle,--then with a
disapproving frown they closed again.

'But Miss Hazel?' remonstrated Mrs. Saddler.

'Well?' said Wych Hazel with closed eyes.

'Mr. Falkirk's dressed, ma'am.'

'What is it to me if Mr. Falkirk chooses to get up over
night?'

'But the stage, ma'am!'

'The stage can wait.'

'The stage won't, Miss Hazel,' said Mrs. Saddler, earnestly.
'And Gotham says it's only a question of time whether we can
catch it now.'

Something in these last words had an arousing power, for the
girl laughed out.

'Mrs. Saddler, how _can_ one wake up, with the certainty of
seeing a tallow candle?'

'Dear me,' said Mrs. Saddler hurrying to light two tall
sperms, 'if _that's_ all, Miss Hazel--'