It was now twelve by Kate Morgan's clock—an hour past David's bed-time. "Where do you live?" he asked Tom.
"In me clo'es," Tom answered, grinning. David found himself liking that grin, which pulled the face to one side like a finger in a corner of the mouth.
"Where are you going to stay to-night?"
"Been askin' meself de same question." He stood up. "But I guess I'd better be chasin' meself so you can git to bed."
"Don't go just yet," said David. He looked at his narrow bed, then looked at Tom. "Suppose you stay with me to-night. I guess we can double up in the bed there."
Tom's mouth fell agape. "Me—sleep—in—your—bed?"
"Of course—why not?"
The boy sank back into his chair. "Well, say, you are a queer guy!" he burst out. He stared at David, then slowly shook his head. "I won't do it. Anyhow, I couldn't sleep in a bed. It'd keep me awake. But I'm up agin it, an' I'll stay if you'll let me sleep on de floor."
"But there are no extra bed-clothes."
"Wouldn't want 'em if dere was. I'd be too hot."