He saluted awkwardly. Larry kept digging heartily into his spaghetti, not intrigued in the slightest. "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. Even on cool days the gardens were colorful and bright, with orange trees emanating sweetness and bumblebees drunkenly weaving from flower to flower. The truth was impossible, indecent. "Curiosity, I suppose," returned Jack, carelessly. Gregory B.
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