Then he wanted the pillow turned over.

Then he wanted a story told him, and shut me up before I'd begun one sentence of it.

Then he wanted me to put my arm round him.

Then he wanted me to lie over on the edge of the bed.

Then he had a pain in his "tummy," and called on me to make it well, and howled because I couldn't.
Poor little beggar! He was in a jolly bad way, and I couldn't well cut up rough; but I can tell you it was the worst night I ever spent.