CHAPTER IV.
Why Harris considers alarm clocks unnecessary in a family--Social instinct of the young--A child's thoughts about the morning--The sleepless watchman--The mystery of him--His over anxiety--Night thoughts--The sort of work one does before breakfast--The good sheep and the bad--Disadvantages of being virtuous--Harris's new stove begins badly--The daily out-going of my Uncle Podger--The elderly city man considered as a racer--We arrive in London--We talk the language of the traveller.
George came down on Tuesday evening, and slept at Harris's place.

We thought this a better arrangement than his own suggestion, which was that we should call for him on our way and "pick him up." Picking George up in the morning means picking him out of bed to begin with, and shaking him awake--in itself an exhausting effort with which to commence the day; helping him find his things and finish his packing; and then waiting for him while he eats his breakfast, a tedious entertainment from the spectator's point of view, full of wearisome repetition.
I knew that if he slept at "Beggarbush" he would be up in time; I have slept there myself, and I know what happens.

About the middle of the night, as you judge, though in reality it may be somewhat later, you are startled out of your first sleep by what sounds like a rush of cavalry along the passage, just outside your door.

Your half-awakened intelligence fluctuates between burglars, the Day of Judgment, and a gas explosion.

You sit up in bed and listen intently.