"Broke down, eh?" said my companion—a man, by-the-way, whose face I have never yet seen.
"Yes," I replied. "Can I put your clothing on the floor and make use of that bench?"
"Aye, that you can."
So out of bed I leaped, put his apparel in a heap on the floor, and ran the bench under my bed. It proved to be a neat substitute for the broken legs, and I was quickly under the covers again and ready for sleep.
The engineer's voice roused me.
"That's what I call the beauty of a head-piece," he said. Presently he repeated the remark.
"Are you speaking to me?" I asked.
"Yes; I'm saying that's what I call the beauty of a head-piece. It's wonderful; and many's the day and night I'll think of it, if I live. What do I mean? Why, I mean that that is what makes you Americans such a great people—it's the beauty of having head-pieces on your shoulders. It's so easy to think quick if you've got something to think with. Here you are, and your bed breaks down. What would I do? Probably nothing. I'd think what a beastly scrape it was, and I'd keep on thinking till I went to sleep. What do you do? Why, as quick as a flash you says, 'Hello, here's a go!' 'May I have the bench?' says you. 'Yes,' says I. Out of bed you go, and you clap the bench under the bed, and there you are, as right as a trivet. That's the beauty of a head-piece, and that's what makes America the wonderful country she is."
Never was a more sincere compliment paid to my country, and I am glad I obtained it so easily.