“Good evening,” was the response. “Where have you boys been?”
“Just looking around, sir,” answered Tom promptly.
“What have you there?” The man indicated Tom’s right hand. Tom looked and replied affably: “A peanut, sir.”
“Hm. What’s your name?”
“Kemble, sir.”
“And yours?”
“Bingham, sir.”
“Well, Kemble and Bingham, it’s contrary to rules to go off the grounds after six o’clock. You didn’t, I presume, pick that peanut off any of the trees here.”
“Oh, no, sir,” answered Tom. “I rather think they grow on vines.”