And I am sure they go to sleep, and wake up with candles, or Dr.
Brown would not have said so. But it is rather a quiet kind of being
alive and awake, I think. Something like Grandmamma, when she is very
stiff on Sunday afternoon, and goes to sleep upright in a chair, and
wakes up a little when her book drops. But not alive and awake like
Margery's black cat, which must have heard me open the side-door, and
followed me without my seeing it. It did frighten me, with jumping out
of the bushes, and looking at me with yellow eyes!
Then I saw another eye. The eye of a moth, who was on one of the
leaves. A most beautiful fellow! His coloured wings were rather tight,
like the Sunflower's glory leaves, but he was wide awake--watching the
candle.
I should have got back to bed quicker if it had not been for Margery's
black cat and the night-moths. I wanted to get the cat into the house
again, but she would not follow me, and the moths would; and I had
such hard work to keep them out of the Rushlight.
There was nothing to drown the noise the key made when I locked the
side-door again, and when I got to the bottom of the back-stairs, I
saw a light at the top, and there was Grandmamma in the most awful
night-cap you can imagine, with a candle in one hand, and the
watchman's rattle in the other.
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