, but did you?"

"M-hm. I guess so."

"'Guess so!' Did you lock that side-door? They got in at Hilliard's
night before last and stole a bag of clothes-pins."

"M."

"Oh, put down that book, and go and lock the side-door. I'll not get a
wink of sleep this blessed night unless you do."

"In a minute now. Just wait till I finish this..."

"Go do it now."

Mr. General Public has a card on his desk that says, "Do it Now," and so
he lays down his book with a patient sigh, and comes back to it with a
patent grouch.

"Oh, so it is," says the voice from the bedroom. "I remember now, I
locked it myself when I put the milk-bottles out.... I'm going to stop
taking of that man unless there's more cream on the top than there has
been here lately."

"M."

"Henry!"

"Oh, what is it?"

"Aren't you 'most done reading?"

"In a minute, just as soon as I finish this chapter."

"How long is that chapter, for mercy's sakes?"

"I began another."

"Henry!"

"What?"

"Aren't you coming to bed pretty soon? You know I can't go to sleep when
you are sitting up."

"Oh, hush up for one minute, can't ye? It's a funny thing if I can't
read a little once in a while."

"It's a funny thing if I've got to be broke of my rest this way. As much
as I have to look after. I'd hate to be so selfish.... Henry! Won't you
please put the book down and come to bed?"

"Oh, for goodness sake! Turn over and go to sleep. You make me tired."

Every two or three hours Mrs. General Public wakes up and announces that
she can't get a wink of sleep, not a wink; she wishes he hadn't brought
the plagued old book home; he hasn't the least bit of consideration for
her; please, please, won't he put the book away and come to bed?

He reaches "THE END" at 2:30A.M., turns off the gas, and creeps into
bed, his stomach all upset from smoking so much without eating anything,
his eyes feeling like two burnt holes in a blanket, and wishing that
he had the sense he was born with. He'll have to be up at 6:05, and he
knows how he will feel. He also knows how he will feel along about three
o'clock in the afternoon. Smithers is coming then to close up that deal.
Smithers is as sharp as tacks, as slippery as an eel, and as crooked as
a dog's hind leg. Always looking for the best of it. You need all
your wits when you deal with Smithers. Why didn't he take Mrs. General
Public's advice, and get to bed instead of sitting up fuddling himself
with that fool love-story