"How long have you been in?" he asked, as he joined him, breathless.
There was a malicious look in his eyes.

"I went in when Pontius Pilate was a little boy, so you can reckon it
out for yourself," said Pelle shortly.

"My goodness! That was a good spell! And what were you copped for?"

"Oh, there happened to be an empty place, so they took me and put me in
--so that it shouldn't stand empty, you know!"

The tramp scowled at him. "You're laying it on a little too thick! You
won't get any one to believe that!" he said uncertainly. Suddenly he put
himself in front of Pelle, and pushed his bull-like forehead close to
the other's face. "Now, I'll just tell you something, my boy!" he said.
"I don't want to touch any one the first day I'm out, but you'd better
take yourself and your confounded uppishness somewhere else; for I've
been lying here waiting for company all day."

"I didn't mean to offend any one," said Pelle absently. He looked as if
he had not come back to earth, and appeared to have no intention of
doing anything.

"Oh, didn't you! That's fortunate for you, or I might have taken a
color-print of your doleful face, however unwillingly. By the way,
mother said I was to give you her love."

"Are you Ferdinand?" asked Pelle, raising his head.

"Oh, don't pretend!" said Ferdinand. "Being in gaol seems to have made a