Helen never lay awake after her head touched the pillow, so Ruth did not look for any questioning on her chum’s part.  And Amy had already wept herself unhappily into dreamland.

“Poor kiddie!” thought Ruth, casting a commiserating glance again at Amy.  “And now for this silly boy.  If the girls knew what I was going to do they’d have a spasm, I expect,” and she chuckled.

She leaned far out of the open window again, and, sitting on the window-sill, turned her body so as to look up the slant of the steep roof.

“Curly!” she called softly.  No answer.  “Curly Smith!” she raised her voice decisively.  “If you don’t come here I’ll call your grandmother.”

A figure appeared slowly from behind a chimney.  Even at that distance Ruth could see the figure shiver.

“Wha—­what do you want?” asked the boy, shakingly.

“Come here, you silly boy!” commanded Ruth.  “Do you want to get your death of cold?”

“I—­I——­”

“Come down here at once!  And don’t fall, for pity’s sake,” was Ruth’s warning, as the boy’s foot slipped.  “My goodness! you haven’t any shoes on—­and no cap—­and just that thin coat.  Curly Smith! you’ll be down sick after this.”

“I’ll be sick if Gran’ catches me,” admitted the boy.  “She’s layin’ for me at my window.”

“I know,” said Ruth, as the boy crept closer.

“You telltale girls told her, of course,” growled the boy.

“We did not.  Ann and Helen don’t know.  Amy is scared, but she’s gone to sleep. She wouldn’t tell.”

“How did Gran’ know, then?” demanded Curly, coming closer.

Ruth told him.  The boy was both ashamed of his predicament and frightened.

“How can I get in, Ruth?  I’d like to sneak downstairs into the sitting room and lie down by the sitting room fire and get warm.”

“You shall.  Come in this way,” commanded Ruth.  “But, for pity’s sake, don’t fall!”

“She’ll find it out and lick me worse,” said Curly, doubtfully.

“She won’t.  The girls are asleep, I tell you.”

“Well, you know it, don’t you?” demanded Curly, with desperation.

“Curly Smith!  If you think I’d tell on you, you deserve to stay out here on this roof and freeze,” declared Ruth, in anger.

“Oh, say! don’t get mad,” said Curly, fearing that she would leave him as she intimated.

“Come on, then—­and whisper.  Not a sound when you get in the room.  And for pity’s sake, Curly Smith—­don’t fall!”

“Not going to,” growled the boy.  “Look out and let me swing down to that window-sill.  Ugh!  I ’most slipped then.  Look out!”

Ruth wriggled back into the room and almost immediately Curly’s unshod feet appeared on the sill.  She grasped his ankles firmly.

“Come in!” she whispered.  “That’s the boy!  Quick, now!”

All this in low whispers.  The girls did not stir, and Ruth had no light.  She could barely see the figure of the boy between her and the gray light out-of-doors.