“Yes, he’s lost his head altogether,” roared old Coble.
“Thank you for reminding me,” said Matt, eagerly. “Now you are here I can tell you what the Frenchman says.”
“Bother the Frenchman!” said Miss Coble, pouting.
“Yes, but he’s languishing in prison this fine, bright day—”
“Mr. Strang painted the jailer’s portrait. That’s how he met the rogue,” old Coble interrupted.
“And he often cries,” went on Matt.
Miss Coble laughed.
“Gracious, you make me feel like a princess, keeping men in dungeons.”
“Well, that’s how you ought to feel,” said Matt.
“Then I guess I’ll take the privilege of a princess,” said Miss Coble. “I’ll let him out on my wedding-morn.”