"Penny----" But Grief and Wrinkles roared an interruption.

"Oh, ho, Mr.Hawker! so it's true, is it?
It's true.

You are a nice bird, you are.

Well, you old rascal! Durn your picture!" Hawker, menacing them once with his eyes, went away.

They sat cackling.
At noon, when he met Wrinkles in the corridor, he said: "Hey, Wrinkles, come here for a minute, will you?
Say, old man, I--I----" "What ?" said Wrinkles.
"Well, you know, I--I--of course, every man is likely to make an accursed idiot of himself once in a while, and I----" "And you what ?" asked Wrinkles.
"Well, we are a kind of a band of hoodlums, you know, and I'm just enough idiot to feel that I don't care to hear--don't care to hear--well, her name used, you know." "Bless your heart," replied Wrinkles, "we haven't used her name.