2.
FLYING OFF THE HANDLE.
It was dark. Crescence stood by the fire in the kitchen: the College Chap came in with very audible steps, and said,--
"Crescence, how are you? I want a pound of that tobacco. Have you got any left?"
"Yes, walk in: my mother 'll wait on you."
"I won't poison your soup if I do stay here a bit," he said aloud: then he continued, very softly, "Florian's got home. Come out a little after a while, and you shall hear us."
Without waiting for an answer, he went into the room. When he came out again, Crescence was gone.
A little later the voices of the three comrades were heard before the Red Tailor's house, singing, whistling, and laughing. Florian's, which had long been wanting, was doubly clear and full. Finding all their efforts unavailing, Peter cried under the window,--
"Crescence, isn't this your goose running about here?"
The College Chap, crouching behind the wood-pile, was cackling with the accent of a native.