"
The fact is that Mr. Fogo was solving his problem, though the process
was painful enough. He was concerned, too, for Caleb, whose rest was
often broken by his master's restlessness. In consequence he
determined to fit up a room for his own use. Caleb opposed the
scheme at first; but, finding that the business of changing diverted
Mr. Fogo's melancholy, gave way at last, on a promise that
"no May-games" should be indulged in--a festival term which was found
to include somnambulism, suicide, and smoking in bed.
The room chosen lay on the upper storey at the extreme east of the
house, and looked out, between two tall elms, upon the creek and the
lepers' burial-ground. It was chosen as being directly over the room
occupied by Caleb, so that, by stamping his foot, Mr. Fogo could
summon his servant at any time. The floor was bare of carpet, and
the chamber of decoration. But Mr. Fogo hated decoration, and, after
slinging his hammock and pushing the window open for air, gazed
around on the blistered ceiling and tattered wall-paper, rubbed his
hands, and announced that he should be very comfortable.
"Well, sir," said Caleb, as he turned to leave him for the night,
"arter all, comfort's a matter o' comparison, as St. La'rence said
when he turned round 'pon the gridiron.
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