And when they're bridlewise and all, you can bring 'em in and get more.

These boys won't have time to get more 'n the rough edge off...." When he had hung up the receiver, Johnny sat down on a box, took his jaws between his two capable palms and thought, staring fixedly at the floor while he did so.
It took him a full twenty minutes to settle two obvious facts comfortably in his brain, but he did it at last and crawled into his bed with a long sigh of thankfulness, though his conscience hovered dubiously over those facts like a hen that has hatched out goslings and doesn't know what to do about them.

One fact--the big, important one--was that Johnny still had his job, and that it looked as secure and permanent as any job can look in this uncertain world.

The other fact--the little, teasingly mysterious one--was that Sudden evidently did not know of Johnny's two-day absence from camp, and foolishly believed Johnny the victim of a cold.
But Johnny's conscience was too much a boy's resilient fear of consequences to cluck very long over what was, on the face of it, a piece of good luck.

It permitted Johnny to sleep and to dream happily all night, and it did not pester him when he awoke at daylight.
Just because it became a habit with him, I shall tell you what was the first thing Johnny did after he crawled into his clothes.