In his hand Verty carried his old battered violin; at his heels stalked the grave and dignified Longears.
"Good morning, Mr. Roundjacket," said Verty, smiling; "how do you do to-day?"
"Moderate, moderate, young man," said the gentleman addressed; "you seem, however, to be at the summit of human felicity."
"Anan?"
"Don't you know what felicity means, you young savage?"
"No, sir."
"It means bliss."
Verty laughed.
"What is that?" he said.
Mr. Roundjacket flourished his ruler, indignantly.