A cool breeze came freshly from the open door of the barn and the sunlight was playing among the cobwebby old rafters above his head. The hay in which he was lying smelled very sweet. Uncle Micah had vanished and Mary had taken his place. She was kneeling at his feet and shaking her curls back as she tugged at his ankle.

"What a lazy little boy you are, Dickie. Generally it's me that can't stay awake, but David says you grunted like anything when he called you and you wouldn't move... GET UP! We've got lots to do today."

Before he could answer, Peter's clear laugh came over the top of the partition.

"Poor little chap! Of course he's exhausted. Let him sleep the day through, David... I've eaten his breakfast, anyway."

Dickie jumped up with a cry of anguish and struggled out of his sleeping-bag.

"What a lot of beasts you are!" he yelled. "Gimme my breakfast." He hauled up his pyjama trousers, which were coming off with the sleeping-bag, and strode with dignity over to the stove, where Peter was sitting back on her heels trying to toast an old crust.

"This is for the little boy, David," she was saying. "And we'll leave a message with Aunt Carol to look in later and bring him a hot-water bottle..."

"And she'd better take his temperature, too," David added. "But we must get along... Funny how Mary's growing up more quickly than little Richard, isn't it?"

"Why, look, David! Here is the little chap! Do you think he's walking in his sleep?"

"Where's my breakfast, you beastly beasts?" demanded Dickie, running his fingers through his tousled hair.

So they had mercy on him, and Peter produced a plate of tepid sausages and a boiled egg as well. Mary brought a rug and he sat close against the stove and made up for lost time, while David told him what had happened after they got back to Seven Gates the night before, because neither of the twins remembered much except mugs of hot soup before being carried to their respective beds.

"Those cowboy friends of yours must have told somebody about Uncle Charles and about this place, 'cos in the middle of all the excitement..."

"And was there some excitement?" Peter broke in. "Of course, you kids were asleep in your little bags by then, but Uncle Micah was so excited that Aunt Carol didn't know what to say or do next, and they both fussed round Uncle Charles, who was pushed into a comfy chair with his bad foot up on another, and we all felt in the way..."

"What happened to Jenny?" asked Dickie with his mouth full. "I like red-headed girls. They're jolly rare."