twenty minutes to ten my father got up. He always went to bed
horribly early.

"What are you going to do, Victor?"

"I am going out," I answered, getting up and stretching myself.

"Will you be late?"

"Probably. I got no sleep last night, nor the night before. It's no
earthly use my going to bed when I feel like this. I can't get to
sleep by repeating hymns, as some fellow suggested the other day."

"Why don't you take morphia or something to help you?"

"I don't care to begin taking drugs," I said, "I would rather wear
myself out, and induce sleep in that way. I shall take a three
hours' walk or so."

"Well, good-night."

"Good-night."

When he was gone, I sat a few minutes in the easy chair, with my
head in my hands thinking. I had meant to ask him a question at
dinner, but that argument on talent had put it on one side. Well, it
would do later.

"Coming out, Nous?" I said to the collie. The dog started and
pricked his ears.