unquestionably not big enough for his huge person--his feet upon
another chair and his hands folded inertly on his drawn-up knees. He
was asleep, with his head lying against the chair-back and his face
more melancholy than ever and more wistful. His eyes, Billy observed,
were deep-sunk and dark-ringed. He sat up suddenly--did Billy, and
threw off the cover with some vehemence. "Darn me for a drunken
chump!" he exclaimed, and clanked over to the chair.

"Here, Dilly"--to save the life of him he could not refrain from
addressing him so--"why in thunder didn't yuh kick me awake, and make
me get off your bed? What did yuh let me do it for--and you setting up
all night--oh, this is sure a hell of a note!"

Mr. Dill opened his eyes, stared blankly and came back from his
dreaming. "You were so--so impatient when I tried to get you up," he
explained in a tired voice. "And you had a way of laying your hands on
your revolver when I insisted. It seems you took me for a shepherd
and were very unfriendly; so I thought it best to let you stay as you
were, but I'm afraid you were not very comfortable. One can rest so
much better between sheets. You would not," he added plaintively,
"even permit me to take your boots off for you."

Charming Billy sat down upon the edge of the bed, all tousled as he
was, and stared abstractedly at Mr. Dill. Perhaps he had never before
felt so utterly disgusted with himself, or realized so keenly his
shortcomings. Not even the girl had humbled him so completely as had
this long, lank, sinfully grammatical man from Michigan.

"You've sure got me where I live, Dilly," he said slowly and
haltingly, feeling mechanically for the makings of a smoke. "Charming