ve it up?"

"Rather not," said Dick. "Why should I? No school, no lessons, nothing
to do but amuse myself, eat and drink what I like, and lots of money.
It's not likely, you know."

"Have you ever thought that you're bringing yourself within reach of the
law, sir?" said Paul, trying to frighten him. "Perhaps you don't know
that there's an offence known as 'false personation with intent to
defraud,' and that it's a felony. That's what you're doing at this
moment, sir!"

"Not any more than you are!" retorted Dick. "I never began it. I had as
much right to wish to be you as you had to wish to be me. You're just
what you said you wanted to be, so you can't complain."

"It's useless to argue with you, I see," said Paul. "And you've no
feelings. But I'll warn you of one thing. Whether that is my body or not
you've fraudulently taken possession of, I don't know; if it is not, it
is very like mine, and I tell you this about it. The sort of life you're
leading it, sir, will very soon make an end of you, if you don't take
care. Do you think that a constitution at my age can stand sweet wines
and pastry, and late hours? Why, you'll be laid up with gout in another
day or two. Don't tell me, sir. I know you're suffering from indigestion
at this very minute. I can see your liver (it may be _my_ liver for
anything I know) is out of order. I can see it in your eyes."

Dick was a little alarmed at this, but he soon said: "Well, and if I am
seedy, I can get Barbara to take the stone and wish me all right again,
can't I? That's easy enough, I suppose."

"Oh, easy enough!" said Paul, with a suppressed groan. "But, Dick, you
don't go up to Mincing Lane in that suit and that hat? Don't tell me you
do that!"

"When I do go up, I wear them," said Dick composedly. "Why not? It's a
roomy suit, and I hate a great topper on my head; I've had enough of
that here on Sundays. But it's slow up at your office. The chaps there
aren't half up to any larks. I made a first-rate booby-trap, though, one
day for an old yellow buffer who came in to see you. He _was_ in a bait
when he found the waste-paper basket on his head!"

"What was his name?" said Paul, with forced calm.

"Something like 'Shells.' He said he was a very old friend of mine, and
I told him he lied."

"Shellack--my Canton correspondent--a man I was anxious to be of use
to when he came over!" moaned Mr. Bultitude. "Miserable young cub, you
don't know what mischief you've done!"