"Now it is really and truly over."
The two children instantly hushed their noise, and each crept into her own bed to sleep.
After a little the Lieutenant began to snore. His snores were not very loud, but they were enough to keep the two children, who were to acquire the habit of nooning, awake.
The youngsters were not allowed to get out of bed or speak to each other, but had to lie perfectly still. Their eyes, meanwhile, wandered round the room. Gazing at the rag mats on the floor, they recognized their mother's and their aunt's old dresses, which had been cut up for carpets. They looked at the portrait of General Malmberg, which hung on the wall between two battle canvasses, at the ink-well and pen, at the antlers and game-bags, at the foil and the famous gun called the "harekiller." They traced the figures in the quilt, they counted the stars on the wall-paper, the nail-heads along the floor, and the checks in the curtains. The hour seemed dreadfully long! They heard the merry voices of the other children, who were so big they did not have to take a midday nap, but ran about—happy and free—devouring cherries and gooseberries and green apples!
The sole hope of the two little girls was the "office fly." She buzzed and buzzed round the Lieutenant's face, making as much noise as she could. If only she kept at it long enough she'd wake him up!
