Knead down in the middle of the bed.

Then jump into the hollow.

Lie there, and you needn't wake till morning.' Old Tom came to the side of the bed.

He had prepared himself for a wretched night, an uproar, and eternal complaints against the house, its inhabitants, and its foundations; but a woman stood there who as much as told him that digging his fist into the flock and jumping into the hole--into that hole under his, eyes--was all that was wanted! that he had been making a noise for nothing, and because he had not the wit to hit on a simple contrivance! Then, too, his jest about the geese--this woman had put a stop to that! He inspected the hollow cynically.

A man might instruct him on a point or two: Old Tom was not going to admit that a woman could.
'Oh, very well; thank you, ma'am; that's your idea.