But in farming one can't expect to lay by money quite as fast as in some other employments." The old clock in the corner here struck eleven.
"We mustn't keep you up too late the last night, Henry," said Mrs.
Frost.

"You will need a good night's sleep to carry you through to-morrow." Neither of the three closed their eyes early that night.

Thoughts of the morrow were naturally in their minds.

At last all was still.
Sleep--God's beneficent messenger--wrapped their senses in oblivion, and the cares and anxieties of the morrow were for a time forgotten..