while in one corner of the dainty mouth was represented a big cigar, with the smoke curling upward. Under the photograph was scrawled in blue crayon, "Ain't she my darling?"
The representation struck Tom as so comical that he was compelled to laugh outright; he simply couldn't help it. It was just such a joke as he might have played years before, perhaps on old Josiah Crabtree, when at Putnam Hall.
"Ha! So you are even willing to laugh in my face, are you!" almost screamed Abner Sharp, and rushing at Tom he caught the youth and shook him roughly. "Do you—er—know that this lady is my—my affianced wife?"
"Let me go!" cried Tom, and shook himself loose. "Excuse me, sir. I know I hadn't ought to laugh, but it looks so—so awfully funny!" And Tom had to grin again.
"Rover!" broke in the president of Brill sternly, "aren't you ashamed to do such a thing as this?"
"Why—er—what do you mean, sir?"
"Just what I said."
"Oh!" A light began to break in on the fun-loving Rover's mind. "Do you think I did this?"
"Didn't you?"
"Of course he did!" fumed Professor Sharp.
