As he drew the quilts over him, he murmured:
“I don’t think I ever had more uncomfortable quarters in my life, and the outlook for the next six months at least is far from encouraging. Still, I would not go back to what I have left behind for anything.”
He was tired. The rain that was now falling heavily upon the roof just over his head acted as a sedative and lulled him to sleep. But his was not an unbroken rest, for at times he tossed to and fro and muttered strange, disconnected sentences. One was:
“I know it was not he. I will pay it back to the last cent.”
After that the troubled sleeper must have had pleasanter dreams, for a smile played about his lips, and he murmured:
“It is all right now; I’ve a home at last.”
From these, however, he was rudely awakened by a gruff call:
“Matt, Matt! git up an’ come out to the barn.”
Sleepy, bewildered, he arose and groped about in the darkness for his clothing. By the time he was dressed a full consciousness of his situation had come back to him, and, with a stout heart, Matt went out to begin what was to him equally new duties and a new life.