“Ah, captain,” said Mr. Long, hurriedly, “I hope you’re very well. Is there anything I can do for you? If so, I can see you some other time. I’m in a great hurry. I’ve just finished some business which I had with these boys. You will have to be kind enough to excuse me.” He touched Captain Corbet’s shoulder, and tried to push him gently aside, so as to pass. Captain Corbet’s hand, which had been removing the coverings, fell slowly to his side. His face turned up and confronted Mr. Long’s with an expression of utter bewilderment, as though the language which he had heard was perfectly incomprehensible. His lips moved, but no sound escaped. “You’ll have to excuse me,” said Mr. Long, kindly. “I’m in a great hurry. Will you allow me to pass?” Mechanically Captain Corbet moved to one side. Mr. Long hurried out. He descended the stairs; he walked rapidly out of the Academy, and down into the village, and far, far away. Captain Corbet stood at the doorway looking at vacancy. At length he turned. There was a certain blank amazement in his face, as though he could not yet understand what had happened. “He said he was in a hurry!” he murmured. “He’s gone! actilly--an raelly--and terewly--gone--an _sech_ a chance! Why, it’ll-never come agin, may be. An he’s ben an missed it--lost it--? actilly therrown it away! Boys,” he continued, after a pause, in a hollow voice, “am I a dereamin?” “O, no, captain,” said Bart, cheerily. “You’re wide awake. Come in and sit down.” The captain shook his head. “Pinch me!” said he, in the same tragic tone. No one obeyed. Captain Corbet heaved a heavy sigh. “No,” said he. “I feel that I’m awake. Here’s the babby--here’s its parient. But I must rest, an meditate over this harrowin occurrience.” Saying this, he walked forward, and seated himself in Mr. Long’s vacated chair. “Thar,” he exclaimed, after a long silence, raising his meek face, and solemnly regarding the boys. “Thar, it air over! That dream hath past and fled, an the feeble idee I ben a hevin of Mr. Long’s better natoor air totially overtherrown by that muve! For it was a perroud hope of the aged and tew sangu-wine Corbet to give thanks to the man that delivered him from rewination in the most ef-fectooil way, by a bringin of the babby face tew face with his benefacture, an a teachin of the tender infant to summile on the author of his footur fortin. We met,” he continued, as a darker shade came over his venerable countenance. “We met, an I thot we’d feel a mootooil jy. I stood a lingerin long by yonder open portial, a holdin of him in suspense, an a pictoorin tew myself his silent raptoor. Why, do you know, boys, I’d even made up my mind to _let him hold the babby_,--jest for a leetle,--if he begged hard, an if the infant didn’t cry. That’s what I was a keepin in store for him. What do ye think of that now?” And after this announcement of his late plan, he looked earnestly at the boys to witness the full effect of that disclosure.