Don nodded. "I guess I am, Timmy. And you're a—a brick, old man!"
"Huh! Any more trains to New York tonight?"
"There's one at twelve-something," answered Don, with a grin.
"Thinking of catching it?"
"Not a bit!"
"All right then." Tim dug in his pocket and then tossed the door-key beside him on the cushion. "Better unpack your bag, you silly ass. Then we'll go out and get some air. I sort of need it!"
Some three hours later Tim, tossing back his bed-clothes, exclaimed: "Hello! What have we here?"
"That's just a note I wrote you," said Don hurriedly. "Hand it here, Tim."
"I should say not! I'm going to read it!"
"No, please, Tim! It's just about two or three things I was going to leave you! Hand it over, like a good chap!"