and pulled me back again.

'Poor old Gilley!' he said.

Then he took up the poker and gave a good banging to the coals. There
was plenty on the fire, but it had got black for want of stirring up. In
a moment or two there was a cheery blaze. Clement pushed me into a seat
and sat down near me on the table, his legs dangling.

I have not said very much about Clem in this story--if it's worth
calling a story--except just at the beginning, for it has really been
meant to be about Peterkin and his princess. But I can't finish it
without a little more about him--Clem, I mean. Some day, possibly, I may
write about him especially, about our real school-life and all he has
been to me, and how tremendously lucky I always think it has been for me
to have such a brother. He is just as good as gold, without any pretence
about it, and jolly too. And I can never forget how kind he was that
afternoon.

'Poor old Gilley!' he repeated. 'It must have been rather horrid for
you--much worse than for those two young imps. Mamma told me all about
it, as soon as she got the letter--she told me a good deal last night
about what Miss Bogie, or whatever the old thing's name is, had told
her.'

I looked up at this.

'Yes?' I said. 'I don't understand it at all, yet. But, Clem, what shall
I do about school to-morrow? I've no lessons ready or anything.'

'Is it that that you are worrying about?' he said.

'Partly, and----'

'Well, you can put _that_ out of your head. It's all right. Mamma told
me what to say--that there'd been a mistake about the trains, and you'd
had to stay the night in London. It wasn't necessary to say more, and
you'll find it all right, I promise you.'

I was very glad of this, and I said so, and thanked Clem.

He sat still for a minute or two as if he was expecting me to speak.

'Well?' he said at last.

'Mamma's been very good, _very_ good about it altogether,' I said at
last, 'and so has papa, by what she says. But still--' and then I
hesitated.

'Well?' said Clement again. 'What? I don't see that there's much to be
down in the mouth about.'

'It's just that--I feel rather a fool,' I said. 'Anybody would laugh so
at the whole affair if they heard it. I daresay Blanche will think I've
no more sense than Pete. She has a horrid superior way sometimes, you
know.'

'You needn't bother about that, either,' said he. 'She and Elf have got
their heads perfectly full of Margaret. I don't suppose Blanche will
eve