A few minutes later and Arthur had deliberately climbed into bed, yawned, dropped asleep, and Dick had rolled out on his side.
“I don’t mean to be smothered when there’s such lots of beautiful air outside,” he muttered; and he softly opened the window once more, jumped into bed, fell asleep directly, and was awakened by the musical chorus off the sea.
“Oh, I say, what a morning!” he cried as he drew up the blind and saw that about a dozen luggers were coming in from the fishing-ground, where they had been all night, while the sun was turning the bay into one sparkling sheet of glory. “Here! Ahoy! Hi! Rouse up, Arthur. Come and have a bathe.”
He made a bound at his brother, and punched and shook him, with the result that Arthur shut his eyes more tightly and hit out at him savagely.
“Get up, or you sha’n’t have any clothes,” cried Dick, trying to drag them off; but—Whuff, huff, bang! down came one of the pillows upon his head, and Arthur rolled himself in the clothes and settled himself for another sleep.
“Oh, sleep away, then!” cried Dick. “Here, hi! Will! Where are you going?”
“To bathe,” said Will. “Come!”
“Down in a minute,” cried Dick; and deferring all washing till he could get plenty of water out in the bay, he thrust a comb in his pocket, a towel under his arm, and ran down-stairs.
“A nasty old nuisance!” grumbled Arthur, getting out of bed like a badly made parcel, with sheet, blanket, and patchwork quilt rolled round him; and as he shut the window with a bang he could see his brother and Will trudging towards the harbour.
“I’ll just have another five minutes, and then I’ll get up and dress, and go and meet them,” yawned Arthur; then he rolled on to the bed and went off fast asleep.