It was well after dark when Frodo said goodnight to Thimula, with a promise to return and resume his search in the morning. He walked around the foot of the Hill and up the lane to Bag End. As he approached the house, he saw the flicker of a match being struck in the garden and in the dim light from within Bag End perceived a shape near the front door. Sam was sitting on the bench, smoking his pipe.
"How is Rosie?" Frodo asked as he came up the steps.
"She had an awful hard time of it, but she's sleeping now," Sam reported. "Mother Cotton says she'll be all right if she rests abed for a few days. She 'n' Marigold're staying over tonight to look after the little ones. I gave 'em the room across from us 'n' the nursery, where they always sleep when they stop the night."
"And the new baby? Is it a boy or girl?"
"Both. That is, one o' each."
"Pippin and Rosemary!" Frodo recalled the names Sam and Rosie had picked out. "Sam, how delightful! But poor Rosie--no wonder she had a hard time."
"Mother Cotton said she wondered if Rosie wasn't big enough to be carrying twins, but didn't like to say so before time in case she was wrong. They're tiny mites, Frodo. Bright pink and wrinkled like new baby mice. All babies look like that the first week or so. You'd never've thought Nel was going to be so pretty, not from the way she looked the first time I saw her." Sam drew in on his pipe and let out a puff of smoke. "You wasn't at the Dragon. Tom 'n' me went down for an ale and to tell the news after the babies came. The womenfolk pushed us out o' the house after we'd had a look at the new little uns and I saw Rosie was all right. I looked for you, but didn't see you anywhere."
"I didn't go after all. I had dinner with Miss Bracegirdle instead and we went on looking for Aunt Lobelia's will. I've found something that may be an important clue to its whereabouts: a key..." Frodo took it from his waistcoat pocket and held it up, even though the light was too dim for Sam to see. "So you and Tom have made it up?"
"He was never so bad as Nibs 'n' Jolly," Sam conceded. "I think he's really sorry for what he told 'em about you and me. He still doesn't know what to make of it, but he can see me 'n' Rose are that devoted to each other and you haven't come between us. He's gone down to Number 3 so the Gaffer'll hear about the babies and won't be alone. I haven't gone back inside yet. It's a bit cold, but a fine night." He stretched himself, his arms reaching along the back of the bench on either side.
"Yes, it is." Frodo sat down beside his friend and took the pipe, which Sam held loosely on his chest, to take a puff or two. His own pipe was in his room, and he didn't feel like going into the house to get it. As he nestled closer, Sam let one arm drop from the back of the bench to put it around him.
For a little while, they sat companionably together in the darkness, sharing the pipe, talking little. Then Frodo began to feel the inevitable weariness after his day's efforts settling upon him, and the chill of the spring night stealing into his bones. He shut his eyes and rested his head on Sam's shoulder. The thought of a blazing fire and the comfort of his bed began to be appealing.
"I ought to be going in. Will you come to my room tonight?" he invited Sam. "Rosie certainly mustn't be disturbed after the day she's been through."
"You know I'd like to," said Sam, "only Mother Cotton or Marigold's going to be sitting up with Rosie and the babies through the night. It's best they don't see anything they'll take home, and start all that trouble up again."
Frodo made an emphatic sound of agreement. If things had settled between Bag End and the Cottons, he was no more eager to revive their suspicions than Sam was. "Very well then. Goodnight, my love." Frodo lifted his head to give Sam a kiss, then he rose and went into the house.
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