It may go out if it wants to, and if it don't it needn't." She came back to bed, and the fire muttered and sputtered a while, and died out, and shot up again, and at last made up its mind to burn, and burned like a small volcano.
"What a noise that fire makes! I hope it won't wake up mother.

Joy, don't it strike you as rather funny it doesn't grow light faster ?" "I don't know." "Get up and look at the entry clock; you're on the front side." Poor Joy jumped out shivering into the cold again, opened the door softly, and ran out.

She came back in somewhat of a hurry, and shut the door with a bang.
"Gypsy Breynton!" "What ?" "If I _ever_ forgive you!" "What is the matter ?" "It's _just twenty-five minutes past eleven_!" [Illustration] Gypsy broke into a ringing laugh.

Joy could never bear to be laughed at.
"_I_ don't see anything so terrible funny, and I guess you wouldn't if you'd made that old--" "Fire; I know it.

Just to think!--and you shivering and blowing away at it.