gust, for he had thought Mrs. Grimstone a
woman of better taste; "your mother said that, did she? Vastly
entertaining to be sure--ha, ha! He would be pleased to know she thought
that, I'm sure."

"Tell him, and see what he says," suggested Tom; "he is an awful brute
to you though, isn't he?"

"If," growled Mr. Bultitude, "slaving from morning till night to provide
education and luxury for a thankless brood of unprofitable young vipers
is 'being a brute,' I suppose he is."

"Why, you're sticking up for him now!" said Tom. "I thought he was so
strict with you. Wouldn't let you have any fun at home, and never took
you to pantomimes?"

"And why should he, sir, why should he? Tell me that. Tell me why a man
is to be hunted out of his comfortable chair after a well-earned dinner,
to go and sit in a hot theatre and a thorough draught, yawning at the
miserable drivel managers choose to call a pantomime? Now in my young
days there _were_ pantomimes. I tell you, sir, I've seen----"

"Oh, if you're satisfied, I don't care!" said Tom, astonished at this
apparent change of front. "If you choose to come back and play the
corker like this, it's your look-out. Only, if you knew what Sproule
major said about you just now----"

"I don't want to know," said Paul; "it doesn't concern me."

"Perhaps it doesn't concern you what pa thinks either? Dad told Mums
last night that he was altogether at a loss to know how to deal with
you, you had come back so queer and unruly. And he said, let me see, oh,
he said that 'if he didn't see an alteration very soon he should resort
to more drastic measures'--drastic measures is Latin for a whopping."

"Good gracious!" thought Paul, "I haven't a moment to lose! he might
'resort to drastic measures' this very evening. I can't change my nature
at my time of life. I must run for it, and soon."

Then he said aloud to Tom, "Can you tell me, my--my young friend, if,
supposing a boy were to ask to leave the field--saying for instance that
he was not well and thought he should be better at home--whether he
would be allowed to go?"

"Of course he would," said Tom, "you ought to know that by this time.
You've only to ask Blinkhorn or Tinkler; they'll let you go right
enough."

Paul saw his course quite clearly now, and was overcome with relief and
gratitude. He wrung the astonished Tom's hand warmly; "Thank you," he
said, briskly and cheerfully, "thank you. I'm really uncommonly obliged
to you. You're