“Wow!” howled Jack.
“Yoop!” laughed Boltwood.
“You long-haired varlet!” snarled Ready.
Biff—the club sent Jack up against the wall.
“You should be more choice in your language, sir,” said the poet pleasantly. “How are you enjoying the fun?”
Then, having made this inquiry, he biffed Ready again. Jack tried to catch hold of the club, but failed.
“Oh, I’m having a perfectly elegant time!” he panted. “But how the dickens did you get here?”
“Me?” inquired Boltwood, in surprise. “Why shouldn’t I be here?”
“Why, you know you ought to be locked fast in that old basement.”