But it was tiresome, miserable work. Phillip was wet and sleepy and cold. If it hadn’t been for Betty he would have given up long before the interminable night was over and gone home to bed. As it was, however, he stuck it out. When daylight came and the electric lamps grew dimmer and dimmer and finally flickered out he felt weak and dizzy, and the second repast of coffee and sandwiches failed to comfort him. At eight o’clock the line stretched the length of the street and an army of small speculators were offering to buy positions at the head. At half past nine he was on his way back to Cambridge, the three dearly bought slips of pasteboard in his pocket, a horrible taste in his mouth, a gone sensation in his stomach and a splitting headache. He went to sleep in the corner of the car and had to be awakened at the square. From thence he tramped across the Yard, sneezing at every third step, and found Chester dressing. “I’m awfully sorry, Phil,” the latter declared. “I didn’t mean to do it. But I was so darned sleepy when I got back that I just laid down for a moment on the couch――just to get a dozen winks, you know. Well, when I woke up it was half past four, by jingo! Of course there was no use going back to town then, so I took my things off and went to bed. I’m awfully sorry, really!” “It doesn’t matter,” replied the other. “I think I’ll lie down awhile myself. Wake me in about an hour, will you?” In the late afternoon he hunted up Everett. “I got tickets for Monday night. Will you tell your sister, please? And I’ll be at the house at seven fifteen. I reckon I’ll go back now; my head aches and I’m kind of funny all over. I’m going to bed.” He staggered against a chair and subsided into it limply. “Here, you come with me,” said Everett. He took him back to his room and didn’t leave him until he was in bed with all the covers that could be found piled on top of him. “Maybe I’d ought to send the doctor to you,” said Everett undecidedly. But Phillip wouldn’t hear of it. He was all right now, he declared between chattering teeth; all he needed was sleep. No, he didn’t want any dinner. But would Everett please tell his mother and Betty―――― Everett promised and went off doubtfully. By good fortune he met Chester on the avenue and told him of Phillip’s plight, and Chester flew back to Thayer calling himself bad names. When he arrived Phillip was sitting up in bed singing happily: “O, Annie Moore, sweet Annie Moore! I shall never see sweet Annie any more! She went away one summer day, And I’ll never see my Annie any more! O, Annie Moore, sweet――――” Chester pushed him back against the tumbled pillows and drew the covers over him. “Phil,” he cried with a frightened sob in his voice, “Phil, please shut up!” “O, Annie Moore――――” “Oh, Phil, please, _please_ lie down and shut up!” begged Chester. “You’re――you’re daffy, you know!” CHAPTER XXIV