It caught—joy!
“Phut!” said the Bishop, bringing down his hand heavily, not on the pin, but near it.
The pin was loosened—William drew it back cautiously up into the tree, and the Bishop settled himself once more to his slumbers.
Again the pin descended—again it caught.
“Phut!” said the Bishop, testily shaking the handkerchief, and again loosening the pin.
Leaning down from his leafy retreat William made one last desperate effort. He drew the bent pin sharply across. It missed the handkerchief and it caught the Bishop’s ear. The Bishop sat up with a scream. William, pin and string, withdrew into the shade of the branches. “Crumbs!” said William desperately to the caterpillar, “talk about bad luck!”
The Vicar ran out from the house, full of concern at the sound of the Bishop’s scream.
“I’ve been badly stung in the ear by some insect,” said the Bishop in a voice that was pained and dignified. “Some virulent tropical insect, I should think—very painful. Very painful indeed——”
“My Lord,” said the Vicar, “I am so sorry—so very sorry—a thousand pardons—can I procure some remedy for you—vaseline, ammonia—er—cold cream——?” Up in the tree the pantomimic imitation of him went on much to William’s satisfaction.
“No, no, no, no,” snapped the Bishop. “This must be a bad place for insects, that’s all. Even before that some heavy creatures came banging against my handkerchief. I put my handkerchief over my face for a protection. If I had failed to do that I should have been badly stung.”