No--I've a better plan than that. We'll make Miss Dutton release you.
She shall do the writing this time."
"Boys," said Jasperson solemnly, "she'll never do it--never! Her mind
is sot on merridge. I see it all now. She hypnotised me, by golly! I
swear she did! That eye of hers is a corker."
"What night are you to be initiated?" asked Ajax, with seeming
irrelevance.
"Next Toosday," replied the neophyte nervously.
"You have never, I believe, been on a spree?"
"Never, gen'lemen--never."
"They tell me," said Ajax softly, "that our village whisky, the sheep-
herders' delight, will turn a pet lamb into a roaring lion."
"It's pizon," said Jasperson,--"jest pizon."
"You, Jasperson, need a violent stimulant. On Tuesday afternoon, my
boy, you and I will go on a mild spree. I don't like sprees any more
than you do, but I see no other way of cutting this knot. Now, mark
me, not a word to Miss Dutton. It's late, so--good-night."
Between May-day and the following Tuesday but little transpired worth
recording. Miss Dutton sent the convert a bulky package of tracts,
with certain scathing passages marked--obviously for our benefit--in
red ink; and we learned from Alethea-Belle that the initiation of
Jasper Jasperson was to be made an occasion of much rejoicing, and
that an immense attendance was expected at Corona Lodge.
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