"Pol——"
"Yes, darling, it's me. Are you awake?"
He sighed luxuriously.
"Tommy, are you awake?"
"Wha's th' time?"
"It's awfully late. Come, you won't sleep to-night if you don't get up now."
"Oh, sha'n't I? I could sleep for a week if I had the chance. Ah-hi-ow!" He yawned like a drowsy lion. "I'd sooner have twenty gales than one fog, Polly."
"I know you would. But never mind about gales and fogs and trivial things of that kind. I've something far, far more important to talk to you about—something that will make your very hair stand on end with astonishment. Only I want to be quite sure first that you are awake enough to take it in."
He called his faculties together in a moment as if I had been the look-out man reporting breakers, and was all alive and alert to deal summarily with the situation, whatever it might be. And I rushed upon my story, showed him the letter and the draft, and poured out a jumbled catalogue of all the things we could now do that wanted doing—beginning with a leaking kettle and ending with his professional appointment, which I had decided must be resigned forthwith.
"And we will live together always and always, like other husbands and wives, only that we shall be a thousand times happier," I concluded, as I led him in to his supper, hanging on his arm.