I joined him at the desk, and we were soon deep in our work. So absorbed were we that we scarcely noticed the flight of time. It was therefore with a start of surprise that I looked at the clock as we finished our work.
“Well, who would have thought it!” I exclaimed. “I wouldn’t have believed that I had been here more than two hours, and yet look at the time. It is nearly four o’clock.”
I rose and went to the window. Off in the east, the first gray streaks of dawn were appearing. Over our work we had sat the night nearly through. Ray was leaning back wearily, his hands behind his head, his eyes closed.
“See here, Ray,” I suddenly exclaimed, “have you been at your books this late every night?”
He did not answer me. Approaching him and looking more closely into his face, I discovered that he had fallen sound asleep, sitting bolt upright in his chair. This, in itself, was answer enough to my question. I shook him gently by the arm. He started and looked up.
“I said it was very late, Ray. Didn’t you hear me?”
“Why, no,” he answered. “I didn’t hear another thing after you closed the book.”
“Ray, you must be careful,” I said. “Four o’clock is bad enough for one night, but it doesn’t pay to repeat it, as I am sure you have. You will make yourself sick, and then you won’t be any good, either for playing baseball or speaking honorary orations—you notice I put playing baseball first,” I added with a laugh.
“Oh, don’t you fear. I won’t get sick,” he answered. “I own I am tired, for I have been keeping late hours—or early hours you might call them, for a week, but then I had to in order to get in shape for examinations. All I need is some sleep and I will be as fresh as ever. This is Friday night; after tomorrow these late hours will be over, and then I can get plenty of rest.”