“You did? Where are you going to sleep to-night?”
“I don’t know.”
“There’s a tavern in the village.”
“What’s that?”
“A tavern. Don’t you know? A hotel.”
“I haven’t got any money.”
“That’s queer,” said the boy, staring. “Where are you goin’ to sleep?”
“On the grass,” said Tom; “only I’m afraid of the wild animals.”
“Pooh! there aint no wild animals round here. But you mustn’t sleep out-doors. You’ll catch cold. If you’ll come home with me, mother’ll let you sleep in our house.”
“Thank you,” said Tom. “You’re a brick.”