"Corporal Spencer, I have a favor to ask of you, don't cher know, bah Jove!"
Corporal Spencer was silent.
"I do not know why I should look to you for it, except—aw—ye know, you were my drill master, and so I look to you as my superior, my guardian, so to speak."
"That's a little taffy for him," Chauncey added—to himself. "Bah Jove, I think the deuced idiot has taken the bait."
The plebe lost no time in taking advantage of his opportunity; he opened an envelope he held in his hand.
"I received to-day," he began, "a card, ye know, an invitation to the hop. I do not know who sent it, bah Jove, but I'm deuced grateful, for I'm awfully fond of dawncing. I need scarcely tell you that I shall hasten to accept it, don't cher know."
The look of delight which spread over the yearling's face was not lost upon the plebe.
"So the idiot is going to fall into the trap," thought the former.
"So the idiot thinks I'm idiot enough to be fooled," thought Chauncey.
Chauncey continued, delighted with his success, no less than the corporal was with his supposed one.