"Is this Bailey?"
It was Bailey. Perhaps at that moment Bailey rather wished it wasn't; but the surprise of his sudden capture had bereft him of the power of speech, and he was unable to deny his identity. The lady did nothing else but stare. Suddenly somebody else made his appearance at the window, a head rose above the window-sill, and a meek, modest voice inquired,--
"Please, ma'am, may I come in?"
The new-comer was Edward Wheeler. The lady's astonishment redoubled.
"Well--I--never!"
Taking this exclamation to convey permission, Wheeler gradually raised himself the necessary height, and finally, after a few convulsive plunges to prevent himself from slipping back again, scrambled through the window and stood upon the floor. Wheeler presented a companion picture to his friend. As he had lost his hat at an early hour of the evening, he, perhaps, in some slight details, bore away the palm from Bailey. Mrs. Fletcher stared at them both in blank amazement; in all her experience of boys she never had seen anything quite equal to these two. Mr. Fletcher, lamp in hand, came up to join in the inspection.
"Where have you boys been?" he asked.
"Out to tea," said Bailey.
Mrs. Fletcher sniffed disdainfully.
"Out to tea! Don't tell me that! I should think you've been out to tea in a ditch!"