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This report was scarcely finished when the Potentate returned. He was very much surprised to find that seventeen prisoners had come in since his previous visit, and he read the report with interest.

“Here is one who ought to be executed,” he said, referring to Number Seventeen. “And how did he poison his grandmother by proxy? Did he get another woman to be poisoned in her stead? Or did he employ some one to act in his place as the poisoner?”

“I have not yet been fully informed, my lord,” said the jailer, fearful that he should lose a prisoner; “but this is his first offence, and his grandmother, who did not die, has testified to his general good character.”

“Very well,” said the Potentate; “but if he ever does it again, let him be executed; and, by the way, I should like to see the prisoners.”

Thereupon the jailer conducted the Potentate along the corridors, and let him look through the holes in the doors at the prisoners within.

“What is this little girl in for?” he asked.

The jailer looked at the number over the door, and then at his report.

“Piracy,” he answered.

“A strange offence for such a child,” said the Potentate.

“They often begin that sort of thing very early in life,” said the jailer.

“And this fine gentleman,” said the Potentate, looking in at the Prince, “what did he do?”

The jailer glanced at the number, and the report.

“Robbed hen-roosts,” he said.

“He must have done a good deal of it to afford to dress so well,” said the Potentate, passing on, and looking into other cells. “It seems to me that many of your prisoners are very young.”

“It is best to take them young, my lord,” said the jailer. “They are very hard to catch when they grow up.”

The Potentate then looked in at the Jolly-cum-pop, and asked what was his offence.

“Conspiracy,” was the answer.

“And where are the other conspirators?”

“There was only one,” said the jailer.

Number Seventeen was the oldest of the courtiers.

“He appears to be an elderly man to have a grandmother,” said the Potentate. “She must be very aged, and that makes it all the worse for him. I think he should be executed.”

“Oh, no, my lord,” cried the jailor. “I am assured that his crime was quite unintentional.”

“Then he should be set free,” said the Potentate.

“I mean to say,” said the jailer, “that it was just enough intentional to cause him to be imprisoned here for a long time, but not enough to deserve execution.”

“Very well,” said the Potentate, turning to leave; “take good care of your prisoners, and send me a report every month.”

“That will I do, my lord,” said the jailer, bowing very low.

The Prince and his party had been very much surprised and incensed when they found that they could not get out of their rooms, and they had kicked and banged and shouted until they were tired, but the jailer had informed them that they were to be confined there for years; and when the Potentate arrived they had resigned themselves to despair. The Jolly-cum-pop, however, was affected in a different way. It seemed to him the most amusing joke in the world that a person should deliberately walk into a prison-cell and be locked up for several years; and he lay down on his little bed and laughed himself to sleep.

That night one of the boys sat at his iron-barred window, wide awake. He was a Truant, and had never yet been in any place from which he could not run away. He felt that his school-fellows depended upon him to run away and bring them assistance, and he knew that his reputation as a Truant was at stake. His responsibility was so heavy that he could not sleep, and he sat at the window, trying to think of a way to get out. After some hours the moon arose, and by its light he saw upon the grass, not far from his window, a number of little creatures, which at first he took for birds or small squirrels; but on looking more attentively he perceived that they were pigwidgeons. They were standing around a flat stone, and seemed to be making calculations on it with a piece of chalk. At this sight, the heart of the Truant jumped for joy. “Pigwidgeons can do any thing,” he said to himself, “and these certainly can get us out.” He now tried in various ways to attract the attention of the pigwidgeons; but as he was afraid to call or whistle very loud, for fear of arousing the jailor, he did not succeed. Happily, he thought of a pea-shooter which he had in his pocket, and taking this out he blew a pea into the midst of the little group with such force that it knocked the chalk from the hand of the pigwidgeon who was using it. The little fellows looked up in astonishment, and perceived the Truant beckoning to them from his window. At first they stood angrily regarding him; but on his urging them in a loud whisper to come to his relief, they approached the prison and, clambering up a vine, soon reached his window-sill. The Truant now told his mournful tale, to which the pigwidgeons listened very attentively; and then, after a little consultation among themselves, one of them said: “We will get you out if you will tell us how to divide five-sevenths by six.”