"Second watch on deck!" whispered Angel, hoarsely—"and look lively!"
"But I'd only just put my spoon in the strawberry ice," I moaned. "Can't be ten minutes yet."
"Oh, I say," complained Angel, "don't you s'pose I know when the old clock strikes ten? You've been sleepin' like a drunken pirate and no mistake. Must be near eleven by now."
"I'll just see for myself," I declared. "I'll go and look at the schoolroom clock." And I began to scramble over him.
"You will not then—" muttered Angel, clutching me. "I shan't let you!"
"You won't, eh? If it's really ten you needn't care, need you!"
"Course it's ten—It's nearer eleven, but you're going to do what I say."
At that we came to grips and fought and floundered till the bed rocked, and the poor little Seraph clung to his pillow as a shipwrecked sailor to a raft in a stormy sea. Exhaustion alone made us stop for breath; still we clung desperately to each other, our small bodies pressed hotly together, Angel's nose flattened against my ear. The Seraph snuggled up to us. "Just you wait"—breathed Angel—his hands tightened on me, then relaxed—his legs twitched—"Strawberry or pineapple, sir?" came the dulcet tones of the waitress. I was in my ice-cream parlour again!
[83]
