Once again Tim was his
friend, for it was to Tim that Cameron owed the blissful experience of a
night in the hay loft upon the newly harvested hay. There, buried in
its fragrant depths and drawing deep breaths of the clean unbreathed air
that swept in through the great open barn doors, Cameron experienced
a joy hitherto undreamed of in association with the very commonplace
exercise of sleep. After his first night in the hay mow, which he shared
with Tim, he awoke refreshed in body and with a new courage in his
heart.
"By Jove, Tim! That's the finest thing I ever had in the way of sleep.
Now if we only had a tub."
"Tub! What for?"
"A dip, my boy, a splash."
"To wash in?" enquired Tim, wondering at the exuberance of his friend's
desires. "I'll get a tub," he added, and, running to the house, returned
with wash tub and towel.
"Tim, my boy, you're a jewel!" exclaimed Cameron.
From the stable cistern they filled the vessel full and first Cameron
and, after persuasion and with rather dubious delight, Tim tasted the
joy of a morning tub. Henceforth life became distinctly more endurable
to Cameron.
But, more than all the other irritating elements in his environment
put together, Cameron chafed under the unceasing rasp of Perkins' wit,
clever, if somewhat crude and cumbrous.
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