"Now, for God's sake, hold your jaw," we said. "Haven't you got
any consideration at all? Can't you see the man's wife is ill
-- dying perhaps -- and he nearly worried off his head?"

The Pilgrim and his mate were scraggy little bipeds of the city push variety,
so they were suppressed.

"Well," yawned the joker, "I'm not going to roost on a stump all night.
I'm going to turn in."

"It'll be eighteenpence each," hinted the landlord. "You can settle now
if you like to save time."

We took the hint, and had another drink. I don't know
how we "fixed it up amongst ourselves," but we got settled down somehow.
There was a lot of mysterious whispering and scuffling round
by the light of a couple of dirty greasy bits of candle.
Fortunately we dared not speak loud enough to have a row,
though most of us were by this time in the humour to pick a quarrel
with a long-lost brother.

The Joker got the best bed, as good-humoured, good-natured chaps generally do,
without seeming to try for it. The growler of the party
got the floor and chaff bags, as selfish men mostly do --
without seeming to try for it either. I took it out of one of the "sofas",
or rather that sofa took it out of me. It was short and narrow
and down by the head, with a leaning to one corner on the outside,
and had more nails and bits of gin-case than original sofa in it.

I had been asleep for three seconds, it seemed, when somebody