"Don't look any younger," he thought, "but I feel so." He walked across the room once or twice.
"Shucks!" he exclaimed. "Couldn't expect to look younger in these old duds, an' at this time o' night, too—tired like I am."
For some time he walked up and down, keeping his eyes resolutely from the date indicator. Finally he threw himself down in the chair again and closed his eyes, nervous and exhausted. He did not feel sleepy, but he must have dozed, for the next time he looked at the clock it was half-past one.
He put out the light and crossed to a settle. Here he lay at full length courting sleep. When he awoke, he thought, refreshed and alert, he would show his youth unmistakably.
But sleep would not return. He tried every position, every trick for propitiating Morpheus. All in vain.
At length he rose again and turned on the light. It was two-fifteen. This time he could not resist looking at the date indicator.
It said September 30, 1889.
Again he looked into the glass.
"My, but I'm nervous!" he thought as he turned away, disappointed. "I look older than ever!"
As he paced the floor there all alone, he began to doubt for the first time the success of his plan.