itical survey of the apartment, and said,--

"Snug little crib you've got--not quite so jolly, though, as the old
study you and Reg had at Wilderham. How's Harker, by the way?"

And he proceeded to stroll across the room to look at a picture.

Blandford and Pillans exchanged glances. Wrath was in the face of the
one, bewilderment in the face of the other.

"Who's your friend?" whispered the latter.

"An old schoolfellow who--"

"Nice lot of fellows you seem to have been brought up with, upon my
word," said Mr Pillans.

"I suppose he'll be up for Christmas," pursued Horace. "Jolly glad I
shall be to see him, too. I say, why don't you come and look us up?
The _mater_ would be awfully glad, though we've not very showy quarters
to ask you to. Ah! that's one of the prints you had in the study at
school. Do you remember Reg chipping that corner of the frame with a
singlestick?"

"Excuse me, Cruden," began Blandford, in a severe tone; "my friend and I
are just expecting company."

"Are you? Well, I couldn't have stayed if you'd asked me. Are any of
the old school lot coming?"

"The fact is, we can do without you, young fellow," said Mr Pillans.

Horace stared. It had not occurred to him till that moment that his old
schoolfellow could be anything but glad to see him, and he didn't
believe it now.

"Will Harker be coming?" he inquired, ignoring Mr Pillans' presence.

"No, no one you know is coming," said Blandford, half angrily, half
nervously.

"That's a pity. I'd have liked to see some of the old lot. Ever since
we came to grief none of them has been near us except Harker. He called
one day, like a brick, but he won't be up again till Christmas."

"Good-night," said Blandford.

His tone was quite lost on Horace.

"Good-night, old man. By the way, Reg--you know he's up in the North
now--asked me to pay you six-and-six he owed you. He said you'd know
about it. Is it all right?"

Blandford coloured up violently.

"I'm not going to take it. I told him so," said he. "Oh yes, you are,
you old humbug," said Horace, "so catch hold. A debt's a debt, you
know."

"It's not a debt," said Blandford. "I gave it to him, so good-night."

"No, that won't do," said Horace. "He doesn't think so--"

"The fact is, the beggar couldn't pay for his own dinner, and Blandford
had to pay it for him. He managed it very neatly," said Mr Pillans.

Horace fired up fiercely.

"What do you mean? Who's this