David began to laugh.
“Oh, Lord, it was funny,” he said. “It was worth five hundred lines. He’s just as blind as possible, blinder than Tovey, you know; and I thought it was very likely I shouldn’t be put on construing——”
“Why?” asked Maddox.
“Oh, I don’t know; it seemed likely. Well, he was taking us in the museum, so I fetched down a stuffed seal, and stuck it up in my place, so that if he counted heads I should be there, and then I went to play squash. Bags, you go on. I didn’t see.”
Bags took up the wondrous tale.
“There we all were,” said Bags, “with the seal sitting up in David’s place. I saw Owlers count heads, and then we began construing. Then it didn’t quite pan out as David expected, for after a bit Owlers said ‘Go on, Blaize,’ and of course the seal didn’t say anything whatever.”
“Poor thing, how could it?” said David.
“And then Owlers said, looking very kind, ‘Perhaps you haven’t prepared quite as far, Blaize.’ But the seal had nothing to say to that, and Owlers asked him why he didn’t answer. And then Owlers gave him a long jaw, and told him he was sulky, and there the seal sat with his glass eyes fixed on the ceiling. Finally Owlers got awful sick with him, and set him five hundred lines.”
It was no use trying not to laugh: the idea of Owlers jawing the seal was too much for Maddox, and the three went off into peals of laughter.
“And didn’t he spot the seal at all?” asked Maddox at length.