“I say, Pen, are you there?”
“Yes, I’m here. What do you want?”
“Want you to turn me round so as I can look out of the door. What made you put me like this?”
“It wasn’t my doing. You were put so that you might be more comfortable.”
“But I am not more comfortable, and it’s so jolly dark. I like to be able to look out of the door if I wake in the night.”
“Hush! Don’t talk so loudly.”
“Why not? There’s nobody to hear. But just turn me over first.”
“Hush! There are three or four other people to hear,” whispered Pen. “You are half-asleep yet. Don’t you understand, Punch?”
“Understand—understand what?” said the poor fellow, subduing his voice in obedience to his companion’s words.
“I must tell you, I suppose.”