and armor and mediæval junk to give it the appropriate look. He told papa once, that if Sammy died, he intended making it over to the Baptists for a college; which shows how much menace there was, and how sad the motive that had inspired its building.
Well, the housewarming was to be a gigantic affair—eight hundred invitations—and a whole month to get ready in. And when I say that even papa was excited, you can imagine what the rest of Studdingham felt like. I guess poor Mr. Marsden was the only person in the place who wasn't having a fit about his costume—that isn't a pun—but because he wasn't asked. It may be that he was pretty busy, too, with his wonderful "plan," and needed less sympathy than I was giving him. He was a lot in my thoughts, anyhow, and sometimes I almost cried, and wondered if I'd ever see him again. It all seemed so hopeless and impossible, and I had got it into my head that his "plan" wasn't any good. You see, I sounded papa, and found him just
65
