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‘What do you mean?’ ‘You have papers of identity, for the Mother Abbess told me so. The cry was echoed by twenty different voices. You make me angry, and I lie. I gather you wish to go up in some fantastic get-up, wrapped about in your opera cloak, and that after the festivities you propose to stay with these friends of yours, and without any older people in your party, at an hotel. What a pig she was. “But Sir John?” he exclaimed. " Amazed at the boy's assurance, Wood left off boxing his ears for a moment, and, looking at him steadfastly, said in a grave tone, "Jack, Jack, you'll come to be hanged!" "Better be hanged than hen-pecked," retorted the lad with a malicious grin.
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