At some point it was decided that the bed space had run out, and something had to be done about my sleeping arrangements. My father asked me if I would be afraid to sleep in the shed just outside the house, where I was told sometimes David slept, in the manner of a camp-out. Well, there was no way I would admit to being afraid of the dark, even though inwardly I was trying to invent some reason why that would be impossible. So I simply said that it surely sounded like fun.
The shed seemed large enough, and on one side a bed frame had been built of two-by-fours, and a mattress had been laid on. My father had a rather weak powered flashlight, which gave a general view of the interior, without much detail.
He left, saying he would be right back, and taking off my shoes, I lay on the bed, pulling over me a light blanket, which I found in the dark.
Soon he came back, and placed over me the heaviest blanket I had ever felt. It had a coarse feel to it and I assumed it was some kind of rug. It seemed to make me feel warm enough and as I listened to a symphony of night sounds from the woods outside, I sank into a deep and peaceful sleep.