CHAPTER XXII.
When Florinda had gone, Grief said, "Well, what was it ?" Wrinkles looked curiously from his drawing-board.
Pennoyer lit his pipe and held it at the side of his mouth in the manner of a deliberate man.

At last he said, "It was two violets." "You don't say!" ejaculated Wrinkles.
"Well, I'm hanged!" cried Grief.

"Holding them in his hand and moping over them, eh ?" "Yes," responded Pennoyer.

"Rather that way." "Well, I'm hanged!" said both Grief and Wrinkles.

They grinned in a pleased, urchin-like manner.