"I'll cheer him up," cried the Parson, and disappeared through an open trap-door into the night beneath. "Nipper Knapp! Nipper Knapp, my boy!"
In two minutes he was back.
Knapp was at his heel, sparring playfully at the back of the other's head.
True, for the broken heart there is no such cure as action or the hope of it.
As they emerged into the twilight of the kitchen a voice, pure as a rivulet's, poured down in song upon them from above.
From outside came a gust of laughter, and then a roaring chorus.
"By the Lord!" thundered the Parson. "It's The Doxie's Daughter."
"And the Gap Gang singing choir!" said Piper grimly. "Likely it'll be the only hymn they knaw."
"One moment, Master Blob!" muttered the Parson between clenched teeth. "I'll swab that boy's soul clean if I have to do it with a scrubbing-brush…. Now, Knapp, ready yourself, while I write a note to the Commandant."
Knapp tore off his coat, and began to fight an exhibition battle with a ghost in the corner.