At five o'clock I looked in on him, and found him seemingly as happy and contented as he used to be.
He was catching flies and eating them, and was keeping note of his capture by making nailmarks on the edge of the door between the ridges of padding.

When he saw me, he came over and apologized for his bad conduct, and asked me in a very humble, cringing way to be led back to his own room, and to have his notebook again.

I thought it well to humour him, so he is back in his room with the window open.

He has the sugar of his tea spread out on the window sill, and is reaping quite a harvest of flies.

He is not now eating them, but putting them into a box, as of old, and is already examining the corners of his room to find a spider.