WHEN Fanny Warham was young her mother--compelled by her father--roused--"routed out"-- the children at half-past six on week days and at seven on Sundays for prayers and breakfast, no matter what time they had gone to bed the night before.

The horror of this made such an impression upon her that she never permitted Ruth and Susan to be awakened; always they slept until they had "had their sleep out." Regularity was no doubt an excellent thing for health and for moral discipline; but the best rule could be carried to foolish extremes.

Until the last year Mrs.Warham had made her two girls live a life of the strictest simplicity and regularity, with the result that they were the most amazingly, soundly, healthy girls in Sutherland.
And the regimen still held, except when they had company in the evening or went out--and Mrs.Warham saw to it that there was not too much of that sort of thing.

In all her life thus far Susan had never slept less than ten hours, rarely less than twelve.
It lacked less than a minute of ten o'clock the morning after Sam's call when Susan's eyes opened upon her simple, pale-gray bedroom, neat and fresh.

She looked sleepily at the little clock on the night stand.
"Mercy me!" she cried.