“I wonder why he gave me a worse dose than you.”

“Yes, he did let into you,” I said cheerfully.

Doe flushed, and continued talking so as to be heard only by me.

“If it had been any other master, I’d have been mad with him.  Fancy, practically two whackings in a morning; one on the knuckles and one on the—­and the other.  But you can’t hate Radley, can you?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” I said, with grave doubts.

There was a pause.  But a desire to tell confidences had been begotten of warm bed and darkness, and my friend soon proceeded: 

“It’s funny, Rupert, but I like talking to you better than to any of the other chaps.  I feel I can tell you things I wouldn’t tell anybody else.  Do you know, I really think I like Radley better than anyone else in the world.  I simply loved being whacked by him.”

I pulled the clothes off my head that I might see the extraordinary creature that was talking to me.  A dim light always burned near our beds, and by it I was able to see that Doe was very red and clearly wishing he had not made his last remark.  My immediate desire, on witnessing his discomfiture, was to put him at his ease by pretending that I saw nothing unusual in the words.  So I quickly evolved a very casual question.

“What!  Better than your father and mother?”

“Well, you see—­” and he shifted uneasily—­“you know perfectly well that my father and mother are dead.”

“O law!” I said.

Awkwardly the conversation dropped.  And, as I lay upon my pillow, down went my brain along a line of wandering thoughts.  Doe’s remark, I reflected, was like that of a school-girl who adored her mistress.  Perhaps Doe was a girl.  After all, I had no certain knowledge that he wasn’t a girl with his hair cut short.  I pictured him, then, with his hair, paler than straw, reaching down beneath his shoulders, and with his brown eyes and parted lips wearing a feminine appearance.  As I produced this strange figure, I began to feel, somewhere in the region of my waist, motions of calf-love for the girl Doe that I had created.  But, as Doe’s prowess at cricket asserted itself upon my mind, his gender became conclusively established, and—­ah, well, I was half asleep.

But, so strange were the processes of my childish mind that this feeling of love at first sight for the girl Doe, who never existed, I count as one of the strongest forces that helped to create my later affection for the real Edgar Gray Doe.

“I think you and I must have been intended to come together, Rupert,” I heard him saying later on, as I was fast dozing off.  “I s’pose that’s why we were called Doe and Ray.”

“Er,” I dreamily assented from beneath the bedclothes.

And still later a voice said: 

“It was rather fun being whacked side by side, being twins.”

From a great distance I heard it, as I listened upon the frontier of sleep.  And, recalling without any effort Radley’s words:  “There’s nothing like suffering together to cement a friendship,” I crossed the frontier.  All coiled up again, my knees nearly touching my chin, I passed into the country of dreams.