"I'm not going to allow you to fall asleep again," persisted Old Wheels. "Bed's the proper place for you."
"I should like," murmured Jim, "to go to bed--and sleep--for a month."
Old Wheels laughed slightly at this.
"You wouldn't expect to wake up at the end of the time," he said, continuing to shake Jim Podmore.
"I don't know--I don't care--I'd like to go to bed--and sleep--for a year. All right, Mr. Wheels--don't shake me--any more!--I'm awake--that is, as awake--as I shall be--till to-morrow morning. I beg you--a thousand pardons--for troubling you. I suppose--you found me asleep--somewhere. Where?"
"On the stairs."
"Ah--yes. I thought--I should ha' fell down in the streets--as I walked along. I was so--dead-beat. I'm glad--you woke me up--for I wanted--to ask you something."
Old Wheels thought it best not to interrupt the current of Jim's thoughts, and therefore did not speak. Jim shook himself much as a dog does when he comes out of the water, and having, it is to be presumed, by that action, aroused his mental faculties, proceeded.
"We've had a talk--to-day--me and some mates--and I made up my mind--that I'd speak--to some one--as might know--better than us. I meant you."
"Yes--what were you speaking about?"