“The stairs. He went to sleep there.”
“Cob!” he cried, making the blood flush to my face, and then run back to my heart—“why, what’s the matter, boy, aren’t you well?”
“My head aches a little, and my mouth feels rather hot and dry.”
“And you’ve got dark marks under your eyes, boy. You’ve not been asleep too, have you?”
I stared at him wildly, and felt far more unwell now.
“Why don’t you speak?” he cried angrily. “You haven’t been to sleep, have you?”
“I was going to confess it, uncle, if you had given me time,” I said. “I never did such a thing before; but I couldn’t keep awake, and fell asleep for over two hours.”
“Oh, Cob! Cob!”
“I couldn’t help it, uncle,” I cried passionately. “I did try so hard. I walked and ran about. I stood up, and danced and jumped, and went in the yard, but it was all of no use, and at last I dropped down on the stairs with Piter, and before I knew it I was fast.”
“Was the dog asleep too?”