The owl kept on with its hooting; but Mercer had what he wanted, for he dropped asleep directly, and I must have followed his example immediately after, for the next thing I remember is feeling something warm on my face, which produced an intense desire to sneeze—so it seemed, till I opened my eyes, to find that the blind had been drawn, and Mercer was tickling my nose with the end of a piece of top string twisted up fine.
“Be quiet. Don’t!” I cried angrily, as I sat up. “Hallo! where are the other fellows?”
“Dressed and gone down ever so long ago. Didn’t you hear the bell?”
“No; I’ve been very sound asleep,” I said, beginning to dress hurriedly. “Shall we be late? Oh!”
“What’s the matter?”
“I’d forgotten,” I said; for the whole trouble of the previous evening had now come back with a rush.
“Good job, too,” said Mercer. “That’s why I didn’t wake you. Wish I was asleep now, and could forget all about it. I say, it ain’t nice, is it?”
I shook my head mournfully.
“It’s always the way,” continued my companion, “one never does have a bit of fun without being upset after it somehow. We went fishing, and nearly got drowned; I bought the ferret, and we lost it; we went in for lessons in boxing, and I never grumbled much, but oh, how sore and stiff and bruised I’ve often been afterwards. And now, when we go for just an hour to try the ferret, we get caught like this. There’s no real fun in life without trouble afterwards.”
“One always feels so before breakfast,” I said, as dolefully as Mercer now, and I hurriedly finished dressing. Then we went to the window, and stood looking out, and thinking how beautiful everything appeared in the morning sunshine.