being a lonely stranger, far from home and friends, to mock him? He goes
over to what she calls the bed, and snatching off the top-most sack from
the pile and holding it up, says:

"Perhaps you'll tell me what this is, then?"

"That," says the girl, "that's the bed!"

He is somewhat nonplussed at the unexpected reply.

"Oh!" he says. "Oh! the bed, is it? I thought it was a pincushion!
Well, if it is the bed, then what is it doing out here, on the top of
everything else? You think that because I'm only a man, I don't
understand a bed!"

"That's the proper place for it," responds the chambermaid.

"What! on top?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well, then where are the clothes?"

"Underneath, sir."

"Look here, my good girl," he says; "you don't understand me, or I don't
understand you, one or the other. When I go to sleep, I lie on a bed and
pull the clothes over me. I don't want to lie on the clothes, and cover
myself with the bed. This isn't a comic ballet, you know!"

The girl assures him that there is no mistake about the matter at all.
There is the bed, made according to German notions of how a bed should be
made. He can make the best of it and try to go to sleep upon it, or he
can be sulky and go to sleep on the floor.

He is very much surprised. It looks to him the sort of bed that a man
would make for himself on coming home late from a party. But it is no
use arguing the matter with the girl.

"All right," he says; "bring me a pillow, and I'll risk it!"

The chambermaid explains that there are two pillows on the bed already,
indicating, as she does so, two flat cushions, each one a yard square,
placed one on top of the other at one end of the mixture.

"These!" exclaims the weary traveller, beginning to feel that he does not
want to go to bed at all. "These are not pillows! I want something to
put my head on; not a thing that comes down to the middle of my back!
Don't tell me that I've got to sleep on these things!"

But the girl does tell him so, and also implies that she has something
else to do than to stand there all day talking bed-gossip with him.

"Well, just show me how to start," he says, "which way you get into it,
and then I won't keep you any longer; I'll puzzle out the rest for
myself."

She explains the trick to him and leaves, and he undresses and crawls in.

The pillows give him a good deal of worry. He does not know whether he
is meant to sit on them or merely to lean up agains