Chapter XI A Night Surprise
oodels and Milburd knock at my door at 2.30 a.m., after I’ve been asleep two hours, and wake me up to tell me that they had thought of a Pleasure of Poverty: it was, Milburd said,
To think that you can’t be worse off, while you hope that others may.
I say.. “Oh... don’t bother—I mean—yes—capital... go to... bed,” and turning round, try to sleep again.
The Deputation thanks me and withdraws.
“What an idiotic thing to do,” I say to myself.... “What a foolish thing”.... getting more wakeful... “What a cruel thing.... Hang it! it’s positively selfish... it’s”... turning for the fifth time, and my pillow becoming as hot as a blister... “Confound Boodels... and Milburd... it’s all his doing, I know”... sitting up in bed.
It occurs to me that counting one hundred and forty backwards, and then getting out and drinking a glass of water, is a capital way of inducing sleep...
Odd, but in Milburd and Boodels coming to rouse me at this time, I find a solution to the other question that we had occupied part of our morning in discussing.
What circumstance justifies loss of patience?
Why, loss of sleep.