“Can’t,” Roy answered. “He’s kicked them on to the floor. Chub, you lazy duffer, get up! Do you hear? We’re eating breakfast.”
“Then it’s too late,” murmured Chub serenely. “Call me before lunch.”
“He won’t get up, Dick,” announced Roy. “You’d better come.”
“No!” yelled the tardy one, jumping as though a yellow-jacket had wandered into bed with him. “I’m up, Dick, honest! Ain’t I, Roy?”
“You’re half up,” was the answer. “I want to see you all up before I leave.”
“All right.” Chub stretched his arms above his head, yawned and stumbled to his feet. “What time did you say it was?”
“About ten minutes after eight.”
“Phew! Don’t it get late early? I did sleep, didn’t I? Go ahead and eat, Roy, I’ll be out in two shakes of a lamb’s tail. My, but I’m sleepy! Say, what time was it when we got to bed last night, anyway?”
“A little after eleven.”