"Good," said Thomas, and went to sleep again.
"We've told Thomas," said Archie. "Now, are you satisfied?"
"Get away, you brute," shouted Simpson, suddenly, and dived under
the sheet.
Archie and I lay back and shouted with laughter.
"It's really very silly of him," said Archie, "because--go
away--because everybody knows that--get away, you ass--that wasps
aren't dangerous unless--confound you--unless--I say, isn't it time
we got up?"
I came up from under my sheet and looked at my watch. "Four-thirty,"
I said, dodged a wasp, and went back again.
"We must wait till five-thirty," said Archie. "Simpson was quite
right; he WAS stung, after all. I'll tell him so."
He leant out of bed to tell him so, and then thought better of it
and retired beneath the sheets.
At five-thirty a gallant little party made its way to the house, its
mattresses over its shoulders.
"Gently," said Archie, as we came in sight of the tennis lawn.
We went very gently. There were only wasps on the tennis lawn, but
one does not want to disturb the little fellows.