Happy Thought.—Go to sleep again.
You turn round, snuggle down, and snooze. A mere snooze until they call you. It being their duty to call you, let 'em do it manfully, and you'll do yours.
Second Surprise.—To awake again. Later than you had expected. Must get up.
Happy Thought.—No use getting up, though, until you've been properly called, and the hot water's there. Besides, you'll be the only one down. Employ the time, until the servant comes, in thinking. Think what you'll do to-day. Think what you'll do first. Put things in order in your mind, then when you get up you'll only have to do them one after the other, and there you are—or there you will be. Excellent plan, this. These arrangements being satisfactorily made mentally, you suddenly find yourself very warm, and then very wakeful, so much so that it is a
Third Surprise—on looking at your watch again—to find that it's an hour since you last consulted it. Odd. You must have been to sleep again. Very odd. And “it's too bad of them;” (of course) they've never called you.
Happy Thought.—Ring the bell for some one to come and call me.
If the bell is by the bed, this is simple. If it isn't, certain arrangements are as necessary as if you were going to make a journey. Inquiries, as it were, concerning the route from the bed to the bell-pull have to be made. This ascertained, and the exact line you have to travel being now clear before you, it is evident that you cannot be so venturesome as to attempt the excursion without your slippers and dressing-gown.
Here commence manœuvres to obtain both articles, while incurring the smallest possible danger of catching the slightest possible cold, or chill.
Then after a series of gymnastic efforts, during which you have nearly begun your day out of bed on your head, you are successful. It is then requisite to pause and take breath. This cessation of energy affords an opportunity for the servant to appear with your hot water, without your inconveniencing yourself any further.
However he doesn't come, and so you get out. Here the freshening breeze which blows over the threshold, under the door, and across the carpet, causes you, for one second, to hesitate, and then foreseeing that the longer you stop out, en deshabille, the worse it would be, you take precautions for the future, inspired by a