“Promise not to start anything?”
“No!”
“Then you don’t get up. You stay right here until I tell you all about it.” Joe seated himself at the foot of the bed and glanced at the clock on the chiffonier. “You see, Foster, it was like this.”
“I don’t want to hear it! I want to get up!”
“Then give me your word to behave.”
Myron studied Joe’s unperturbed face, hesitated and gave in. “All right,” he growled. “But I’ll—I’ll get even with you yet.”
“Sure! Now then we’ll do some hustling.” For two minutes Joe was very busy with knots. “Hope these things didn’t hurt,” he said apologetically. “I tried to fix ’em so you’d be comfortable.”