With a plunge of enjoyment, Fledgeby settled himself afresh.

“Any snow, or sleet, or slush, or anything of that sort?” he asked.

“No, sir, no. Not quite so bad as that. The streets are pretty clean.”

“You needn’t brag about it,” returned Fledgeby, disappointed in his desire to heighten the contrast between his bed and the streets. “But you’re always bragging about something. Got the books there?”

“They are here, sir.”

“All right. I’ll turn the general subject over in my mind for a minute or two, and while I’m about it you can empty your bag and get ready for me.”