"Hope you may choke, John," said Hannibal, sweetly.
"Don't allow smoking in here, do you, boys?" He got no answer. It was a hard-and-fast rule which he himself had instituted.
"Well, here goes." He lighted a huge cigar and puffed it insolently about the office. He surveyed himself in the cracked mirror.
"Cursed if a uniform isn't becoming to a man!" he said.
"Chicken!" said Hamilton.
"Puppy!" said Hannibal.
"Titmouse!" said Hamilton.
"Ant!" said Hannibal.
John's grin widened.
"Boys," he said, "you've got one swell looker in the family, anyway, and you ought to be glad of that."
The boys exchanged glances.
Hannibal had upon his desk a pen-wiper which consisted of a small sponge heavy with the ink of wiped pens. Hamilton had beneath his desk an odd rubber boot
