"Bertie, I think I'm going to be sick." came Bingo's voice from the bed next to mine.
"What? Why?" I whispered back.
"You remember last week when Tuppy ate all that pie at dinner?" I nodded, then realized in the dark that didn't mean much in the dark.
"Indeed I do."
"Tuppy bet me I couldn't eat five helpings of bread pudding this evening." Bingo broke off to groan. "He was right. Ooh."