“I want to make sure of that,” he mused. “My own money, too. I’ll quietly put it all in the pocket book and slip it under my pillow. Then no one can play any tricks on me without waking me up.”
Dave worked in the dark. He fished out the bills from his pocket. Then he got hold of the silver change he had received down stairs. It was composed mainly of dimes and nickles. Just as he was striving noiselessly to transfer the handful to the pocket book, bang! rattle! tap! went half a dozen rolling nickles out of his hand.
“Hello, what’s that?” challenged a sharp suspicious voice, and Dave knew that the noise made by the falling coins had awakened the sleeper in the other bed.
Dave was bound to answer. He slipped the pocket book under his pillow, and held tightly the coins remaining in his hand to prevent them from jingling together.
“It’s me,” he replied.
“Who’s me?”
“Roomer—just come in.”
“You’re a boy, aren’t you?”
“Like yourself.”
“What’s your name?”