Sinopsis

"Good-night, Martie," called a sweet voice down the stairway. "Good-night, Rose dear; I thought you were asleep." "Good-night, Martie," duetted the twins, in the shrillest of treble and falsetto. "Good-night, you rogues; go to sleep; you 'll wake baby." "Dood-night, mummy," chirped a little voice from the ading room. There was a shout of laughter from the twins. "Shut up," growled March from the attic over the kitchen. "Good-night, mother." His growl ended in a squeak, for March was at that interesting period of his life indicated by a change of voice. At the sound, a prolonged snicker from somewhere was answered by a corresponding giggle from another-where. "Now, children," said Mrs. Blossom, speaking up the stairway, "do be quiet, or baby will be wide awake." "Tum tiss me, mummy," piped the little voice a second time, with no sound of sleep in it.