No wonder that John was not sleepy at eight o'clock; he had beenflying about while the others had been yawning before the fire. Hewould like to sit up just to look at how much more solemn and stupid itwould become as the night went on; he wanted to tinker his skates, tomend his sled, to finish that chapter. Why should he go away fromthat bright blaze, and the company that sat in its radiance, to thecold and solitude of his chamber? Why did n't the people who weresleepy go to bed?