ust be some about. Shall I go and see?"

"We might tip one of those fellows outside a sixpence to go and get us
some."

"Hold hard, old man!" said Horace, laughing again. "We're not so flush
of sixpences as all that. I guess if we want any water we shall have to
get it ourselves. I'll be back directly."

Poor Reg, spirited up for a while by his brother's courage, proceeded
more gingerly with his sweeping, much amazed in the midst of his misery
to discover how many walks in life there are beyond the capacity even of
the captain of the fifth of a public school.

He was not, however, destined on the present occasion to perfect himself
in the one that was then engaging his attention. Horace had scarcely
disappeared in quest of water when the door opened, and no less a
personage than the manager himself entered the room.

He was evidently prepared neither for the dust nor the duster, and
started back for a moment, as though he were under the impression that
the clouds filling the apartment were clouds of smoke, and Reginald was
another Guy Fawkes caught in the act. He recovered himself shortly,
however, and demanded sharply,--

"What are you doing here, making all this mess?"

"I'm trying to carry out Mr Durfy's instructions," replied Reginald,
leaning on his broom, and not at all displeased at the interruption.

"Durfy's instructions? What do you mean, sir?"

"Mr Durfy's--"

"That will do. Here you," said the manager, opening the door, and
speaking to the nearest workman, "tell Mr Durfy to step here."

Mr Durfy appeared in a very brief space.

"Durfy," said the manager, wrathfully, "what do you mean by having this
room in such a filthy mess? Aren't your instructions to have it swept
out once a week? When was it swept last?"

"Some little time ago. We've been so busy in our department, sir,
that--"

"Yes, I know; you always say that. I'm sick of hearing it. Don't let
me find this sort of thing again. Send some one at once to sweep it
out; this lad doesn't know how to hold a broom. Take care it's done by
four o'clock, and ready for use. Pheugh! it's enough to choke one."

And the manager went off in a rage, coughing.

Satisfactory as this was, in a certain sense, for Reginald, it was not a
flattering way of ending his difficulties, nor did the spirit in which
Mr Durfy accepted his chief's reprimand at all tend to restore him to
cheerfulness.

"Bah, you miserable idiot, you! Give up that b