noon
As it was a half-holiday , he felt no compunction in staying away from the office . The landlady , a motherly soul , sent him up some coffee and scrambled eggs , and insisted on having a doctor in to look at his damage . Several stitches were taken , after which he had a nap . He woke up at noon , feeling better , though his head still ached abominably . Putting on a dressing gown , he sat down in his modest chamber , which was furnished chiefly with a pipe-rack , ash trays , and a set of O. Henry , and picked up one of his favourite volumes for a bit of solace . We have hinted that Mr. Gilbert was not what is called `` literary . '' His reading was mostly of the newsstand sort , and Printer 's Ink , that naive journal of the publicity professions .