380 S. LIBIN
"What is the matter?" inquires Yudith.
"My sides ache with lying."
"Mine, too," says Yudith, and they both begin yawn- ing.
"What o'clock would it be now?" wonders Breklin, and Yudith listens again.
"About ten o'clock," she tells him.
"No later? I don't believe it. It must be a great deal later than that."
"Well, listen for yourself," persists Yudith, "and you'll hear the housekeeper upstairs scolding somebody. She's putting out the gas in the hall."
"Oi, weh is mir ! How the night drags !" sighs Brek- lin, and turns over onto his other side.
Yudith goes on talking, but as much to herself as to him :
"Upstairs they are still all alive, and we are asleep in bed."
"Weh is mir, weh is mir!" sighs Breklin over and over, and once more there is silence.
The night wears on.
"Are you asleep?" asks Breklin, suddenly.
"I wish I were ! Who could sleep through such a long night? I'm lying awake and racking my brains."
"What over?" asks Breklin, interested.
"I'm trying to think," explains Yudith, "what we can have for dinner to-morrow that will cost nothing, and yet be satisfying."
"Oi, weh is mir !" sighs Breklin again, and is at a loss what to advise.
"I wonder" (this time it is Yudith) "what o'clock it is now!"
