“Time to go to bed now,” Mrs. Bagot said. “Come on now, into bed, both of you. Margaret is nearly asleep as it is.” She had left them up long past their usual bedtime, and Margaret was drooping. Lily was as wide awake as ever; she’d be awake all night if this kept up. But it was Christmas Eve, and Martin was home early from work. He was downstairs now, reading the paper and waiting to come up and say good night to them. Because Martin was home, the two cats and Bennie, the dog, were all shut up in the kitchen. He hated to see the animals around the house, and the animals seemed to know it — they had all settled themselves very comfortably around the stove the minute she told them to stay. They were all stray animals that had found their way to the house at one time or another, and they had never lost their watchfulness. They knew where their welcome was. Bennie was Mrs. Bagot’s special pet. He was a rough-haired white terrier. Mrs. Bagot had rescued him years before from a gang of small boys who were tormenting him, and since then she had seldom been out of his sight. He slept on her bed at night. Martin Bagot didn’t know that. Martin had his own room at the back of the house. He generally got home from work very late, after Mrs. Bagot and the children and Bennie and the cats were all asleep. He didn’t like to have Mrs. Bagot wait up for him, she had to get up so early in the morning to get the children off to school. He thought the animals all slept in the little woodshed behind the house.

Minnie, the thin black cat, belonged to Lily, but Rupert was Margaret’s. Rupert was a fat orange cat who was so good-natured that he purred even the time his tail was caught in the kitchen door. Martin knew the names of the animals and sometimes he asked the children, “How is Minnie?” or “How is Rupert?” but he liked them kept out of the house. He half believed the animals carried disease and that the children would suffer from having them around.