"You never can tell, Mister Frey. I had my dinner swiped this noon an'
I'm not takin' any chances!"
"For heaven's sake, Judd, call me Cateye. Everybody else does."
"Well, I reckon I can," replied Judd, slowly, having completed the action of hiding his wallet to his evident satisfaction.
"Those feet and those hands," sighed Cateye to himself, "would make
Babe Ruth turn green with envy!"
Judd struggled awkwardly into a home-made nightshirt.
Cateye buried his head in a pillow and bit his lip to keep from laughing outright. "Ye Gods! And is this only the beginning?" he asked himself.
The question was almost immediately answered.
"Gee mackerel!" howled Judd, as he rolled into bed and sunk down amidst the folds of a soft feather mattress. "This may be the ticket for babes but it's no place for me! I can't sleep on anything soft. It's bad for the spine. Me for the floor!"
"You're not going to sleep on the floor!"
"You bet I am!" mumbled Judd, emphatically, dragging the bed sheets off and arranging them on the floor. "I lay out straight when I go to sleep. I don't tie myself up in any fancy bow knots!"