Capes joined the students at tea, and displayed himself in an impish mood that sometimes possessed him. "Well, Sir?" gasped Sir Rowland. B. White, my landlady, believes his story. "Why not?" "I'll tell you," cried a deep voice from the back of the bed. He looked at his friend. "I beg your pardon," he cried; "but really—ha! ha!—you must excuse me!—that is so uncommonly diverting—ha! ha! Do let me hear it again?—ha! ha! ha!" "Upon my word," rejoined Wood, "you seem vastly entertained by my misfortunes. ‘Now then, my lad, you’re under arrest you are.
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