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Updated: July 25, 2025
Gently the White Linen Nurse shifted her shoulder to accommodate the shifting little sleepyhead on her breast. "You can hire some one for that," she suggested with real relief. "I was trying to hire you!" said the Senior Surgeon quite tersely. "Hire me?" gasped the White Linen Nurse. "Why! Why!"
Turnback; Formalist and Hypocrisy, who were "from the land of Vainglory, and were going for praise to Mount Sion"; Simple, Sloth, and Presumption, "fast asleep by the roadside with fetters on their heels," and their companions, Shortwind, Noheart, Lingerafterlust, and Sleepyhead, we know them all. "The young woman whose name was Dull" taxes our patience every day.
"The reason I'm putting you on the first watch is because you're such a sleepyhead." "Don'd vorry aboud me," said Carl, with a yawn. "I pet you I vas der sleepinglessness feller in der whole bunch. If he gets avay on my vatch it vill not be pecause I don'd sleep." "I guess you mean all right, but I swear I can't understand you. Only keep awake." "Oh, yah; I avake keeping all der time."
"His name isn't Sleepyhead," said the Righthandiron, with a grin. "It's Thomas D. Pate." "What's the D for?" asked the other. "Dozy Thomas Dozy Pate," exclaimed the Righthandiron. "His ancestors were Sleepyheads on his mother's side, and Dozy Pates on his father's side." "'Tisn't so at all!" cried Tom, indignantly. "My mama wasn't a Sleepyhead, and my name isn't Dozy Pate."
Miss Weir broke away from him laughingly, ran along the path, and up the steps, kissed her finger-tips to the lingering figure by the gate, and went in. "Bed," she soliloquized, "is the place for me right quickly if I'm going to be up and dressed and have that lunch ready by ten o'clock. I wish I weren't such a sleepyhead or else that I weren't a 'pore wurrkin' gurl."
He tried counting, only it was fish he was catching instead of sheep going through the gap in the hedge. It was no use. At last he got up and stretched himself. "Guess I'll take a turn around in the cool air; I can't seem to sleep." "Gee," grumbled Phil, "and here I can't seem to stay awake. Just as well have let me slumber on in peace." "Well, don't slumber while I'm gone, sleepyhead."
The logs were burning fiercely and at first Tom thought that the words he heard spoken were nothing but their crackling and hissing, but in a minute he changed his mind about that for the very good reason that the "Lefthandiron" as Tom's uncle once called it winked his eye at Tom and said: "Hullo, Sleepyhead." Tom only returned the wink. He was too much surprised to say anything.
There was coffee fragrance on the air of the large white kitchen, his mother hunched to the attitude of wielding a can opener, and at the snowy oilclothed table, Ada, slicing creamy slabs off the end of a cube of Swiss cheese. "Sleepyhead," she greeted, holding up a sliver for him to nibble. And his mother: "That was a good rest for you, son? You feel better?"
Just at that moment a sharp report in her ear caused her to start and wake, and there, sure enough, was her father in the act of drawing the cork of a lemonade bottle, while Archie poured out the contents of another, which must by some mysterious means or other have got into her dream. "Well, sleepyhead!" exclaimed Archie, "did you condescend to wake at last?
Now it also seems to me that he who dreams is more awake than he who sleeps, and that he who spends a third part of his life in utter unconsciousness better deserves to be called a sleepyhead and dullard, than he for whom the dark nights are also vivid and rich with pulsing life.
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