The bed had four tall posts at the corners, and a very puffy top that filled David with wonder as to how he was to reach it, or stay there if he did gain it.

Across a chair lay a boy's long yellow-white nightshirt that the kind lady had left, after hurriedly wiping her eyes with the edge of its hem.

In all the circle of the candlelight there was just one familiar object to David's homesick eyes--the long black violin case which he had brought in himself, and which held his beloved violin.
With his back carefully turned toward the impaled bugs and moths on the wall, David undressed himself and slipped into the yellow-white nightshirt, which he sniffed at gratefully, so like pine woods was the perfume that hung about its folds.

Then he blew out the candle and groped his way to the one window the little room contained.
The moon still shone, but little could be seen through the thick green branches of the tree outside.

From the yard below came the sound of wheels, and of men's excited voices.