The dolls fell in a neglected heap, the train on the carpet, the fire behind the fender, the reels of cotton that were on the table--they all knew it.
His friend had returned.
His impulse was, there and then, to sit down.
His friend was whispering: "Come along!...

Come along!...

Come along!" He knew that, on his surrender, his father would make sounds like, "Well, old man, tired, eh?
Bed, I suggest." He knew that bed would follow.

Then darkness, then his friend.
For an instant there was fierce battle between the old forces and the new.

Then, with his eyes upon his father, resuming that hiss that is proper only to ostlers, he continued his march.
He reached the wall.