“Never put off until to-morrow what can be done to-night,” replied Rob virtuously. “You just turn your little face away from the light and compose yourself for slumber, Evan.”
“Oh, thunder, I can’t go to sleep with that light shining!”
“Bet you you’ll be snoring inside of ten minutes.”
“Bet you I won’t. Besides, I don’t snore. You do the snoring for this establishment, you human calliope.”
“No one ever called me that before,” said Rob sadly. “Really, Evan, I don’t believe that I snore. I think you dream it.”
“Oh, you do, eh?” muttered Evan as he turned over. “I just wish you had to listen to yourself sometimes!”
Rob won his wager, for Evan, if he didn’t actually snore, at least proved conclusively within the designated time that he was sound asleep. Half an hour later he opened his eyes during a wakeful moment and saw Rob still at work on the cigar-box. How late he labored with it Evan never knew, but in the morning it was finished. Evan saw it the first thing after getting up, read the inscription and howled loudly and gleefully, but not loud enough to awake Rob who was still sleeping the sleep of one who has kept late hours.