"There isn't any air over the back side and I can't breathe," said Joy.
"Neither can I," said Gypsy.
"I never can get to sleep if I don't have the place I'm used to," said Joy.
"You can just as well as I can," said Gypsy. "Besides, it's my bed."
This last argument appeared to be unanswerable, and Gypsy had it her way.
She thought it over before she went to sleep, which was not very soon; for Joy was restless, and tossed on her pillow, and talked in her dreams. Of course the front side and the upper drawers belonged to her—yes, of course. She had only taken her rights. She would be obliged to anybody to show her where she was to blame.
Joy went to sleep without any thoughts, and therein lay just the difference.