“This isn't luxury, Herbert,” said Melville.
“No,” answered the boy; “but I don't mind it if you don't.”
“I am afraid I may keep you awake by my coughing, Herbert.”
“Not if I once get to sleep. I sleep as sound as a top.”
“I wish I did; but I am one of the wakeful kind. Being an invalid, I am more easily annoyed by small inconveniences. You, with your sturdy health, are more easily suited.”
“Mr. Melville, I had just as lief sleep downstairs in a chair, and give you the whole of the bed.”
“Not on my account, Herbert. I congratulate myself on having you for a roommate. If I had been traveling alone I might have been packed away with the colonel, who, by this time, would be even less desirable as a bedfellow than usual.”
The worthy colonel had not been content with a single glass of whisky, but had followed it up several times, till his utterance had become thick, and his face glowed with a dull, brick-dust color.
Col. Warner had been assigned to the adjoining chamber, or closet, whichever it may be called. He did not retire early, however, while Herbert and George Melville did.
Strangely enough, Herbert, who was usually so good a sleeper, after a short nap woke up. He turned to look at his companion, for it was a moonlight night, and saw that he was sleeping quietly.