sor Barclay."

"No, you oughtn't, and you wouldn't have been such a sneak. Besides, it
would have been getting poor Mr Morris into trouble, too, for taking me
there. Did you want him to lose his place?"

"Well, no," said Glyn thoughtfully.

"And as to my going to see Professor Barclay and lending him a little
money now and then--I mean, giving it--it was my own money, and what's
the good of having money if you don't do good with it?"

"Well," said Glyn thoughtfully, "there is something in that," and the
boy seemed yielding to his companion's attack.

Singh realised this, and pressed it home.

"I am sure it was doing more good with my allowance than you do with
yours, always stuffing yourself with fruit and sweets and things."

"That I am not!" cried Glyn indignantly.

"Yes, you are. Why, you have got quite half of that big three-shilling
cake in your box now."

"Oh, but that was to eat of a night when we came to bed and felt as if
we ought to have a little more supper."

"Oh, bother!" cried Singh angrily. "What shall I do. Here, I know. I
shall go."

"What, run away?"

"Yes," cried Singh, "and stop away till my guardian writes to me and
begs of me to come back; and then I shall make terms, and not give way
till he promises that he won't say another word about the belt."

Glyn chuckled to himself softly. "How are you going to make terms?" he
said.

"I shall write to him," cried Singh importantly.

"Without giving any address?" said Glyn, with a mirthful look dancing in
his eye.

"What rubbish! Why, of course I shall put my address, so that he can
write to me again--"

"And then he won't write to you," said Glyn. "He'll come to you and
fetch you back with a flea in your ear."

"Oh, you are a brute!" cried Singh viciously. "And I feel as if I
could--No, I won't. I shall treat you with contempt."

"That's right; do. I say, you are comforting me nicely, aren't you?
Pig! disagreeable old jungle-pig! That's what you are."

"Well, why don't you help me then? What am I to do?"

"Get dressed, I think," said Glyn. "Don't be what old Brohanne calls a
_bete_--big fool. Do as I do. Go and have it out with the dad, and get
out of one's misery. He won't be very hard."

"Oh, if it was only a good--good--good--What's that you say?"

"Bullying?"

"No, no. It was a bit of slang, and I like to use bits of English slang
when I can; they'll be so useful to know by-and-by when I am scolding my