"Or," said Mr. Thornton with a glad laugh, "or a Sunny Jim."
CHAPTER XI
A light tap was heard on the door of John's sitting-room.
"John, are you still up? Can I come in?"
Before John could answer, Drusilla was in the room.
"John, I'm ashamed of you! Has this been goin' on all the time, and I didn't know it. It's past twelve."
John said apologetically: "It isn't late, is it, Drusilla? I didn't think of the time."
"Late! It's past twelve, I tell you, and you had ought to be in bed gettin' your beauty sleep. Nights was made for sleepin', John Brierly." John shook his head.
"Oh, no, Drusilla; nights were made for reading. There is no joy like a long quiet evening and Carlyle, for example, for company."