“Glyn, what’s that?”
“Oh, what an old stupid it is! Here have I been shouting ever so long to make you get up and see. Go and open the window and look out.”
“Heigh-ho-hum!” yawned Singh. “I was dreaming that old Slegge hit me in the face again.”
“Yes, I know you were.”
“Why, you couldn’t know I dreamt it.”
“But I tell you I did know.”
“How could you know, when I was dreaming and you weren’t?”
“Why, you were shouting it at me, and pitching into my pillow, thinking it was old Slegge’s head.”
“Get out! I wasn’t. I— Here, how is it I have got two pillows here? Why, you wretch, you must have thrown one at me to wake me!”
There was a sharp rustling, an expiration of breath, and the soft head-rest was hurled back again, just as the jangling noise was repeated more loudly.