tting up straight as a poker on a gold sofa.

It always makes me laugh when I read what some persons' ideas are of
how rich people amuse themselves. The nurses are always jollying me
about my rich friends and playing the races and champagne suppers and
high-flying generally, and I often wish they could have seen us those
evenings at the Eltons, playing bridge--no money, mind you, and
Apollinaris at ten! The Commodore had to have ginger-ale, the ladies
hardly ever drank, and I never take anything but water when I'm on a
case, so Mr. Ferrau had all the champagne there was at that dinner. At
ten the masseuse came and rubbed Miss Elton to sleep, and I got into my
bed next hers before she went off, not to risk disturbing her. There
was a night lamp in her bath and I could just make out her long braid
on the pillow--the pillow cases had real lace insertions and the
monograms on the sheets were the most beautiful I ever saw.

I went off myself about eleven, for I was determined to act perfectly
natural: I knew I'd wake if anything was wrong. And sure enough: all
of a sudden I began to dream, a thing I seldom if ever do, and I
dreamed that my suicidal case was clambering over me to jump out of the
window, and woke with a start.

Miss Elton was sitting up in bed staring at me, breathing short.

"Can I do anything for you?" I asked quietly and she gave a sort of
gasp and said,

"No--I think not, thank you. I'm sorry to bother you, but the doctor
told me to."

"Why, of course," said I, "that's what I'm here for. Do you see
anybody?"

I didn't say, "Do you think you see anybody?" for I never put things
that way.

"Yes," she said, "she's there--Janet." I glanced about, and of course
there was no one, and I tell you, I felt awfully sorry for her. It was
all the worse that she was so pretty and calm and decent about it: I
didn't like that a bit.

"Where is she?" said I.

"Right on the foot of the bed," she answered, in that grim, edgy kind
of way they always talk when they're holding on to themselves. Oh, how
that morphine boy of mine used to begin!

"Excuse me, Miss Jessop, but would you mind assuring me that there's
nobody crouching under the bed?" he used to say. "Of course I know
there's not, but there appears to be, and I'd be obliged if you'd look!"

If I went under that bed once, I went fifty times.

"Why, to tell you the truth, Miss Elton, I don't see a thing," I said.
"Shall I turn on the light?"