"How--on--earth--did you get up there?" he asks, in an accent of slow
and marked astonishment, not unmixed with admiration.

As he speaks, he throws away his cigar, and takes his hat off.

"How on earth am I to get down again? is more to the purpose," I answer,
bluntly.

"I could not have believed that any thing but a cat could have been so
agile," he says, beginning to laugh. "Would you mind telling me how
_did_ you get up?"

"By the ladder," reply I, laconically, reddening, and, under the
influence of that same insupportable doubt concerning my ankles, trying
to tuck away my legs under me, a manoeuvre which all but succeeds in
toppling me over.

"The _ladder_!" (looking round). "Are you quite sure? Then where has it
disappeared to?"

"I said something that vexed Bobby," reply I, driven to the humiliating
explanation, "and he went off with it. Never mind! once I am down, I
will be even with him!"

He looks entertained.

"What will you do? What will you say? Will you make use of the same
excellently terse expression that you applied to me last night?"