chocolate and turned a page.

She did not ask to see the book.

"That's what I call so jolly about you," presently said Clifford. "When
I come to see you, you don't keep asking me questions, or giving me
things, or advice, or anything. You do what you like, and I do what I
like--I mean to say, we both do just what we like."

"Yes; that's the way to be pleasant companions," said Bertha. "I go your
way, and you go mine."

"How's Percy?" the boy asked presently.

"Percy's the same as usual. Only I fancy he seems a little depressed."

Presently Clifford looked up and said:

"Anyway, you'll think it over, Bertha; and see what you decide to do
about asking Pickering?"

"Rather!" said Bertha, turning a page absently. "He's rather a wonderful
chap, then?"

"Isn't he!"

"What sort?"

"What _sort_?" cried Clifford, dropping his book. "Why, Bertha, I was
_with_ him, _actually with him_, when he went into the country post
office and asked the woman if she would let him have small change for
ten shillings, and he found he hadn't the half-sovereign then, but would
pay her when he didn't see her again! And then he said if she wouldn't
do that, he'd like to buy some stamps, and asked if she'd show him some
to choose from. And then he said--I saw him do it--'I'll take those two
in the middle--I like the colour.' When she said they were fivepence he
said that was too expensive, and he couldn't run to it. And then he
wanted to buy some sweets--they sell everything at those country
shops--and she wrapped some up for him, and then he said he hadn't got a
penny, and would she put it down to Lord Arthur's account--that's an
uncle of his who didn't know anything about it, and hadn't got any
account. And when she refused, fancy, Bertha! he asked if she'd take
stamps, as she seemed fond of them, and when she said she would, he
stamped twice on the floor and ran out of the shop, and I ran after him.
She _was_ angry!"

"He seems a useful boy."

"Rather! His people are frightfully rich, you know," went on Clifford.
"When they tease him about it at school, he says he's never allowed to
use the same motor twice, and that they're made of solid gold! He chaffs
everybody."

Clifford murmured on rather disjointedly, and Bertha read without
listening much, occasionally making some remark, when the telephone
rang.

Bertha had an extension on the little table next to her sofa.

"Shall I go?" asked Clifford.

"No. Just to the other en