“I’ll not believe it!” championed loyal Duke. “Mr. Treat has far too much thought of the comfort of farm animals to make them suffer so. Let’s go to sleep, I say!” fetching a yawn.
“All right,” agreed Billy, and they settled themselves once more, each to his particular liking.
The Duke had given his first snore—if you don’t believe that calves snore, just go out to the barn late some night next summer when you’re visiting in the country, and listen to all the queer sleepy sounds of the animals and you’ll agree with me that calves do snore.
Yes, Billy waited until the Duke had given his first good-sized snore, when he lifted his head and called:
“Say, Duke! Duke, I say!”
“W-e-l-l?” drowsily.
“Duke!” repeated the goat in sharp staccato.
“Y—e—e—s!” in a long drawn out yawn.
“I merely forgot to say good-night, and since you’re such a stickler on manners, thought I’d tell you that you had omitted it, too.”
“Good-night!” snapped the Duke, “and don’t let me hear another word from you till daylight!”