"Good boy!" laughed Frank, his face full of satisfaction. "Shake!"
They clasped hands.
Rat-tat-tat! A knock at the door.
"Come in."
The door opened and Dismal Jones, his face longer and sadder than usual, came slouching into the room.
"Hello, Jones, old boy!" cried Frank, cheerfully. "What is troubling you now? You look like a funeral."
"I'm mad," said Dismal in a spiritless way.
"Is that what ails you? I'd never suspected it from your appearance."
"Appearances are oftentimes deceitful," croaked Jones. "Whosoever is deceived thereby is not wise."
"Well, sit down and tell us all about it," invited Frank, offering a chair. "My boy, it must be that you are studying too hard. You have the outward appearance of a greasy grind."