“No, I am used to a mattress.”
“Mr. Middleton and I sleep on a straw-bed.”
“It’s all right if you like it, but I don’t like it.”
“Really,” said Mrs. Middleton, who could not control herself at the bidding of policy as well as her husband, “if you are an inmate of our family, I think you will have to conform to our regulations.”
“Then,” said Tom, “I think I had better not trouble you any longer. I can easily find another boarding-place.”
But this did not suit Mr. Middleton. He could not bear the idea of giving up twenty dollars a week, and although it would cost money to buy a mattress, according to Tom’s unreasonable desire, and make more liberal arrangements for the table, all that could be done, and still a considerable margin be left for profit.
“My young friend,” he said, “Mrs. Middleton and I will talk over the matter and see what we can do. Of course our first desire is to make you as comfortable as possible.”
“I am glad to hear it,” said Tom, with the air of one who heard something unexpected.
“I hope you will have no cause to doubt it,” Nathan continued. “Good-night, and pleasant dreams.”
“Good-night,” said Tom. “Please thump on my door in the morning, when breakfast is ready.”