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This word of commendation from his comrade pleased Bob immensely. It was the first word of approval he had had from his gloomy chum. “Easier, that’s all!” he answered. But both boys were glad when a new stretch of still water was reached. "You don't know!" rejoined Blue Beard; "I know well enough. You must needs go into the closet. Well, madam, you shall go in again, and take your place among the ladies you saw there." “Yes, little John?”.

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Bob paid no attention to him. “Jerry,” he said, “is it true? If you tell me now it isn’t I’ll believe that you just got mixed up in the poker game and—and—Oh, Jerry, I can’t believe it. Please—please tell me it isn’t true.” With one voice they denied the fact, and were resolute in persisting that they knew nothing of the person described. This denial confirmed Hippolitus in his former terrible surmise; that the dying cavalier, whom he had seen, was no other than Ferdinand, and he became furious. He bade the officers prosecute their search, who, leaving a guard over the banditti they had secured, followed him to the room where the late dreadful scene had been acted. He was just sick and tired of seeing those apples in that good-for-nothing garden. Good-for-nothing it certainly was, and very, very old. There was only one apple tree besides the one Johnny was so interested in, but its fruit could scarcely be called apples at all. He would call them croquet balls—such hard green things as they were—hard as rocks. Of course if any of them were on the ground, he bit into them. In fact, he had eaten a good many of them first and last, but they were horrid things, anyway. Many persons were standing around, all looking at Grandmother and Johnny Blossom..