"I'm hanged if you do. On the contrary, I'm going to do my best to fix a comfortable place for you to take a nap. I'll call you when Mr. Dudley comes."
"It's most provoking of him," she said, as he began rummaging through his steamer trunk. "What are you doing?"
"Hunting out something to make over into a mattress. You don't mind napping on my clothes, do you? Here's a soft suit of flannels, a heavy suit of cheviot, a dress suit, a spring coat, and a raincoat. I can rig up a downy couch in no time if—"
"Ridiculous! Do you imagine that I'm going to sleep on your best clothes?
I'm going to sit up."
"You'll have to do as I say, madam, or be turned out of the hotel," said he, with an infectious grin.
"But I insist upon your lying down. You have no reason for doing this for me. Besides, I'm going to sit up. Good-night!"
"You are tired and ready to cry," he said, calmly going on with his preparations. She stood off defiantly and watched him pile his best clothes into a rather comfortable-looking heap on one of the long benches. "Now, if you don't mind, I'll make a pillow of these negligée shirts. They're soft, you know."
"Stop! I refuse to accept your—" she was protesting.
"Do you want me to leave you here all alone?" he demanded. "With the country full of tramps and—"
"Don't! It's cowardly of you to frighten me. They say the railroads are swarming with tramps, too. Won't you please go and see if Mr. Dudley is anywhere in sight?"