If you feel mean in the night sing out; Martha'll hear you and come in.
I'll be on hand in the morning. Good-night, Mr. Bangs."

He blew out the lamp and departed, closing the door behind him. The rain
poured upon the roof overhead and splashed against the panes of the two
little windows beneath the eaves. Galusha Bangs, warm and dry for the
first time in hours, sank comfortably to sleep.

He woke early, at least he felt sure it was early until he looked at
his watch. Then he discovered it was almost nine o'clock. He had had a
wonderful night's rest and he felt quite himself, quite well again, he--

Whew! That shoulder WAS a trifle stiff. Yes, and there was a little more
lameness in his ankles and knees than he could have wished. Perhaps,
after all, he would not get up immediately. He would lie there a
little longer and perhaps have the hotel people send up his breakfast,
and--Then he remembered that he was not at the hotel; he was occupying
a room in the house of a total stranger. No doubt they were waiting
breakfast for him. Dear me, dear me!

He climbed stiffly out of bed and began to dress. This statement is not
quite correct; he prepared to begin to dress. Just as he reached
the important point where it was time to put something on he made a
startling discovery: His clothes were gone!

It was true, they were gone, every last item of them with the
unimportant exceptions of crumpled collar and tie. Galusha looked
helplessly about the room and shivered.

"Oh, dear me!" he cried, aloud. "Oh, dear!"