e you to talk to. I knew
a nice little boy once, just your age, that used to come and see me
regular once a week and play bagatelle with me. He was a good player at
it too!"

"Could he get clear-board twice running with two balls?" asked Stephen,
half jealous of the fame of this unknown rival.

"Eh!--no, scarcely that. He wasn't quite such a dab as that."

"I can do it," said Stephen with a superior smile.

"You? Not a bit of you!" said Mr Cripps, incredulously.

"Yes, I can," reiterated Stephen, delighted to have astonished his host.

"I must see it before I can believe that," said Mr Cripps. "Suppose
you show me on my board."

Stephen promptly accepted the challenge, and forgetting in his
excitement all about school rules or Loman's orders accompanied Cripps
to the bagatelle-room, with its sanded floor, smelling of stale tobacco
and beer-dregs. His first attempt, greatly to Mr Cripps's glee, was
unsuccessful.

"I knew you couldn't," exclaimed that worthy.

"I know I can do it," said Stephen, excitedly. "Let's try again."

After a few more trials he made the two clear-boards, and Mr Cripps was
duly astonished and impressed.

"That's what I call smart play," said he. "Now, if I was a betting man,
I'd wager a sixpence you couldn't do it again."

"Yes, I can, but I won't bet," said Stephen. He did do it again, and
Mr Cripps said it was a good job for him the young swell didn't bet, or
he would have lost his sixpence. Stephen was triumphant.

How long he would have gone on showing off his prowess to the admiring
landlord of the Cockchafer, and how far he might have advanced in the
art of public-house bagatelle, I cannot say, but the sudden striking of
a clock and the entry of visitors into the room reminded him where he
was.

"I must go back now," he said, hurriedly.

"Must you? Well, come again soon. I've a great fancy to learn that
there stoke. I'm a born fool at bagatelle. What do you say to another
ginger-beer before you go?"

Stephen said "Thank you," and then taking the newspaper in his hand bade
Cripps good-bye.

"Good-bye, my fine young fellow. You're one of the right sort, you are.
No stuck-up nonsense about you. That's why I fancy you. Bye-bye. My
love to Mr Loman."

Stephen hurried back to Saint Dominic's as fast as his legs would carry
him. He was not quite comfortable about his evening's proceedings,
although he was not aware of having done anything wicked. Loman, a