Shays shook his head, indicating either a promise or his general confusion and despondency.
“Wha' for, Hicksy?”
Allen was silent a moment.
“Jim-jams, Jimmy,” he said at last. “You'll die of those all right, and Coglan will squat on you. You ain't bright, but you've been white to me.”
“Tha's right! Tom don't like you. Hicksy, tha's right,” whispered Shays with sudden trembling. “Maybe he'd—'sh! We won't wake him, Hicksy. Wha' for?”
“He's sleeping on my clothes, so I'll take yours. Get me your razor.”
“Wha' for? Wha's that for? All right! I ain't going to wake Tom.”
He stepped unsteadily on a shoe that lay sidewise, stumbled, and fell noisily on the floor.
There he lay a moment, and then scrambled back to his feet, shaking and grumbling.
“What's the matter?” Coglan cried, now awake in the shop.