I sat down in my own armchair, drew it back a little from the full blaze of the fire, and

began them protracted and soothing business of lighting a pipe.

As I did so, I became aware that I had interrupted the others in the midst of a lively conversation,

and that Oliver and Will at least were restless to continue.

Well, I said, through the first cautious puffs at my tobacco, and what's all this?

There was a further pause, and Esmei shook her head, smiling over her embroidery.

Come. Then Oliver got to his feet and began to go about the room, rapidly

switching off every lamp, saved the lights upon the Christmas tree at the far end, so that

when he returned to his seat, we had only the immediate firelight by which to see one

another and Esmee was obliged to lay down her sewing not without a murmur of protest.

May as well do the job properly Oliver said with some satisfaction.

Oh you boys now come on will it's your turn isn't it no it's. Aha, said the youngest of the only brothers in an odd, deep

voice. I could, and if I would. Must we have the lights out? Isabel spoke as if to much smaller boys.

Yes, sis, we must.

That's if you want to get the authentic atmosphere.

But I'm not sure that I do.

Oliver gave a low moan,

Get on with it then someone.

Esmay leaned over towards me.

They're telling ghost stories.

Yes, said Will, his voice unsteady with both excitement and laughter,

just a thing for Christmas Eve. It's an ancient tradition. The lonely country house,

...