colour came and went in Reginald's face, as though he had been
charged with some hideous crime. And it seemed like a deliberate
mockery of his trouble that his three companions and the waiter stood
silent at the table, eyeing him, and waiting for his answer.

"I'm sorry," he said at length, bringing up the words with a tremendous
effort, "I find I've not money enough to pay it. I made a mistake in
coming here."

All four listeners stood with faces of mingled amazement and amusement
at the boy's agitation and the tragic manner in which he accounted for
it. Any one else would have carried it off with a jest; but to Reginald
it was like passing through the fire.

"Would you mind--may I trouble you--that is, will you lend me three-and-
sixpence, Blandford?" he said at last.

Blandford burst out laughing.

"I thought at least you'd swallowed a silver spoon!" said he. "Here,
waiter, I'll settle that bill. How much is it?"

"No," said Reginald, laying down his three shillings; "if you can lend
me three-and-sixpence, that's all I want."

"Bosh!" said Blandford, pitching half a sovereign to the waiter; "take
it out of that, and this coffee too, and come along into the smoking-
room, you fellows."

Reginald would fain have escaped; but the horrid dread of being
suspected of caring more about his dinner than his company deterred him,
and he followed dejectedly to the luxurious smoking-room of the Shades.

He positively refused to touch the coffee or the cigar, even though
Blandford took care to remind him they had been paid for. Nor, except
when spoken to, could he bring himself to open his lips or take part in
the general talk.

Blandford, however, who, ever since the incident of the bill, seemed to
consider himself entitled to play a patronising part towards his
schoolfellow, continued to keep him from lapsing into obscurity.

"Where's your brother living?" he asked presently.

"He's in town, too," said Reginald. "My mother and he and I live
together."

"Where? I'd like to call on your mother."

"We live in Dull Street," said Reginald, beginning in sheer desperation
to pluck up heart and hang out no more false colours.

"Dull Street? That's rather a shady locality, isn't it?" said Mr
Pillans.

Reginald rounded on him. Blandford might have a right to catechise him;
but what business was it of this numbskull's where he lived?

"You're not obliged to go there," he said, with a curl of his lip,
"unle