“That boy is liable to wake up and wonder where in the hell you have gone,” I said.

“If he do, it won’t be the first time he has missed a relative in the middle of the night, I bet. I have been behaving myself right good since I had F. D. under my wing. At least I do come home, even if I might maybe sneak right out again soon as he goes to sleep.”

“Why you think you have to deceive that boy about your night-prowl habits, I don’t know,” I said. “You do nothing vicious or wrong, and I am sure he’s not the kind of boy who would look down on a man for imbibing a bit of beer, would he?”

“No, he would not,” said Simple. “But I do not want him to think because I am out all night, he should maybe be out, too. So I come in—and come out again when he is unconscious. Just like it took Joyce two or three years to find out I did not go right home to bed when I used to leave her house. She knows it now, though.”

“And she loves you right on. Just as this boy will still like you when he finds out you don’t need more than three or four hours’ sleep. He’ll probably admire you just for that.”

“Next week will be time enough for him to find out, though, won’t it? This week lemme set a good example.”

“Good examples are not set by deceit,” I argued.

“Oh, but sometimes they are,” said Simple. “A congressman is a good example until somebody catches him with a deep freeze. A minister is a good example until he gets caught with the deacon’s wife. I am a good example as long as F. D. thinks I am in my bed asleep. I don’t have to always be there in person, do I?”

“Getting your proper rest would do you no harm, however.”

“Vacation’s coming up. I’ll rest then. So don’t worry about me.”

“Last year you went to Saratoga, didn’t you? Where are you going this time?”