"Go to bed right away," she commanded.
Freddy looked at her in amazement.
"Ain't you goin', too, Florette?" he asked.
"No, you go on—go to sleep."
"Git into that nice li'l cot an' go by-by," said the new papa genially.
Freddy had not seen the cot before. It had been moved in during his absence at the theatre, and stood white, narrow, and lonely, partly concealed by a screen.
"I—I always slep' with Florette," faltered Freddy.
This seemed to amuse the new papa. But Florette flushed and looked annoyed.
"Now, Freddy, are you goin' to be a grouch?" she wailed.
Freddy was kissed good-night, and went to sleep in the cot. He found it cold and unfriendly. But habit, the much maligned, is kind as well as cruel; if it can accustom us to evil, so can it soften pain. Freddy was beginning to assume proprietary airs toward the cot, which appeared in every town, and even to express views as to the relative values of cots in Springfield, Akron, or Joliet—when one night he woke to hear Florette sobbing.