sudden question
rather threw him off his guard.

"A slight touch of liver," he said at length. "It takes me after meals
sometimes."

"Liver!" said Mr. Tinkler, "you've no right to such a thing at your age;
it's all nonsense, you know. Run in and play, that'll set you up again."

"It's fatal, sir," said Paul. "My doctor expressly warned me against
taking any violent exercise soon after luncheon. If you knew what liver
is, you wouldn't say so!"

Mr. Tinkler stared, as well he might, but making nothing of it, and
being chiefly anxious not to be interrupted any longer, only said, "Oh,
well, don't bother me; I daresay it's all right. Cut along!"

So Mr. Bultitude was free; the path lay open to him now. He knew he
would have little difficulty in finding his way to the station, and,
once there, he would have the whole afternoon in which to wait for a
train to town.

"I've managed that excellently," he thought, as he ran blithely off,
almost like the boy he seemed. "Not the slightest hitch. I defy the
fates themselves to stop me now!"

But the fates are ladies, and--not of course that it
follows--occasionally spiteful. It is very rash indeed to be ungallant
enough to defy them--they have such an unpleasant habit of accepting the
challenge.

Mr. Bultitude had hardly got clear of the groups scattered about the
field, when he met a small flaxen-haired boy, who was just coming down
to join the game. It was Porter, his neighbour of the German lesson.

"There you are, Bultitude, then," he said in his squeaky voice: "I want
you."

"I can't stop," said Paul, "I'm in a hurry--another time."

"Another time won't do," said little Porter, laying hold of him by his
jacket. "I want that rabbit."

This outrageous demand took Mr. Bultitude's breath away. He had no idea
what rabbit was referred to, or why he should be required to produce
such an animal at a moment's notice. This was the second time an
inconvenient small boy had interfered between him and liberty. He would
not be baffled twice. He tried to shake off his persecutor.

"I tell you, my good boy, I haven't such a thing about me. I haven't
indeed. I don't even know what you're talking about."

This denial enraged Porter.

"I say, you fellows," he called out, "come here! Do make Bultitude give
me my rabbit. He says he doesn't know anything about it now!"

At this several of the loungers came up, glad of a distraction.

"What's the matter?" some of them asked.