ough I did my best to pull him
out straight. He didn't like that, ungrateful chap, and used to growl at
me for it, and I believe he often pretended to be asleep when he wasn't,
just to stop me doing it; for one night, nurse had come in to know what
the row was about, and though she agreed with me that it was much better
for him to lie properly stretched at his full length, she said I wasn't
to wake him up because of it.

But if he was generally fast asleep at night when I came to bed, he
certainly made up for it by waking in the morning. I never knew anything
like him for that. I believe he woke long before the birds, winter as
well as summer, and then was his time for talking and telling me his
stories and fancies. Once I myself was well awake I didn't mind, as it
was generally rather interesting; but I couldn't stand the being
awakened ages before the time. So we made an agreement, that if I didn't
wake him up at night, he'd not bother me in the morning till I gave a
sign that I was on the way to waking of myself. The sign was a sort of
snort that's easy to make, even while you're still pretty drowsy, and it
did very well, as I could lie quiet in a dreamy way listening to him.
He didn't want me to speak, only to snort a little now and then till I
got quite lively, as I generally did in a few minutes, as his stories
grew more exciting, and there came something that I wanted him to alter
in them.

That night, however, when I went up to bed there was no need to think of
our bargain, for Peterkin was as wide awake as I was.

'Haven't you been to sleep yet?' I asked him.

'Not exactly,' he said. 'Just a sort of half. I'm glad you've come,
Gilley, for I've got a lot of things in my head.'

'You generally have,' I said, 'but _I'm_ sleepy, if you're not. That
scamper in the cold after you, my good boy, was rather tiring, I can
tell you.'

'I'm very sorry,' said he, in a penitent tone of voice, 'but you know,
Giles, I never meant to----'

'Oh, stop that!' I exclaimed; 'you've said it twenty times too often
already. Better tell me a bit of the things in your head. Then you can
go to sleep, and dream them out, and have an interesting story ready for
me in the morning.'

'Oh, but--' objected Pete, sitting up in bed and clasping his hands
round his knees, his face very red, and his eyes very blue and bright,
'they're not dreamy kind of things at all. There's really something
very misterist--what is the proper word, Gille