“No idea of a joke!” said Morris, vainly striving to wipe his streaming eyes on the pillow-slip by rolling his head. “Then what do you call this?”
“Business.”
“Business? Oh, well, call it what you like; it’s good, mighty good. To think that you managed to hog-tie me like this without waking me up! It’s—it’s— By the way, what time is it?”
“Just ten o’clock.”
“Great Scott! You don’t mean it? Here, untie these knots and let me up. I was going to be in town at eleven.”
Peter shook his head. Morris stared. The truth dawned.
“You don’t mean—” he began, incredulously. Peter nodded.
“Well, I’ll be jiggered!”
He lay and stared in amazement. Peter stared uncompromisingly back. The study clock ticked unnaturally loud. Peter was pale and Morris was of a redness that verged on purple. The storm broke suddenly.
“Why, you little red-headed, snub-nosed idiot!” bellowed Morris. “When I get up I’ll smash you into slivers! I’ll——”