kle in his eye.

But Christopher's ill-temper had evaporated with the short wait. After
all, the man was Aymer's cousin, and he couldn't help being a brute,
and if he really wanted to see St. Michael perhaps it was a piece of
luck for him that the postman was late. So he laughed and said a
little shyly he hoped Mr. Masters would not mind his not talking till
they were out of the streets.

"I shall expect conversation with compound interest," returned the
other good-humouredly.

He was, however, quite quiet until Christopher turned into a narrow
back street.

"That's not your best way," said Peter Masters sharply.

"I'm going to call on a friend," replied the driver without apology.

They threaded their way through a maze of small ill-looking streets,
slowly enough, for there were children all over the road; not
infrequently a big dray forced them to proceed backwards. Masters
noted that Christopher never expected the legitimate traffic should
give way to him. They emerged at last on a crowded thoroughfare of
South London, where small shops elbowed big ones and windows blazed
with preposterous advertisements. There were trams too, and scarcely
room for the big car between rail and pavement. Presently they stopped
before a prosperous-looking grocery store. A white-aproned man rushed
out with undisguised complacency to wait on the fine equipage.

"I want to see Mr. Sartin if he's free," said Christopher, and waited
quietly.

In a minute Sam was with them, white-aproned, pencil behind ear. To
Masters's amusement his companion greeted the young grocer with the
familiarity of long friendship.

"I heard from Jessie the other day," said Christopher when he had
explained his appearance; "what about this man Cladsley? Is she going
to marry him?"

Sam looked down the street, a little frown on his face.

"Jessie'd no business to write you. Cladsley's all right. Don't you
worry about Jessie."

"I'm not worrying," laughed the other, "I only wanted to be sure it
was suitable and all that."

"I'll look after Jessie." The words were ungracious, but Sam looked
worried and uncertain. "You've done enough for us."

"You old dog in the manger," persisted Christopher good-temperedly,
"you'll never let me do anything for Jessie, and, after all, it was
she who used to take my part when you fought me, Master Sam, and
wouldn't let you bully me."

Sam grinned. "Yes, it was always Jim that was in the right then. Don't
you bothe