by nature with an unfortunate capacity for blushing, and he
blushed now.

"Don't give me any of that lip or you'll get into trouble," he said
without conviction.

"That was not my intention," answered Granny, urbane as ever. "I'm
very sorry."

Again there was a titter. Martin blushed and swore inwardly: he knew
that he was not beginning well.

A few minutes later one Dickinson said: "Please can we have the window
open: there's an awful frowst."

"I suppose so," answered Martin. "It does seem a bit thick in here."

Here was Granny's chance. He sneezed magnificently. "May I go and
fetch my overcoat?" he asked mildly.

"Shut up," said Martin.

Granny turned up his collar, blew his nose with gentle persistence, and
started to shiver. Others followed his example, and the room began to
resound with the chattering of teeth.

Martin felt desperate. What exactly was the right way to deal with
this kind of ragging? What would Rayner do? That was where the
difficulty lay: the workroom never tried this game with Rayner, so that
it was impossible to say what Rayner would have done. Swearing at them
wouldn't do: he couldn't swipe the whole company. Besides, there were
his ideals. Foolishly he determined to try and work in his idealism
under the pretext of a joke: it was a cowardly compromise and it
deserved to fail.

"I suppose," he said, "we might take a vote about the window."

There was a genial roar of acclamation.

"Those in favour of keeping it open," he went on} "shove up your hands."

There was much talking and throwing of paper balls. Hoarse whispers
such as, 'Jones, you stinker, put your hand down or I'll kill you
afterwards,' came to his ears. The counting was complicated by the
necessity of disqualifying all those who held up both hands with a view
to fraud. When the oppositions were being numbered there were murmurs
of: 'Lowsy swine,' 'Frowsters,' and so on. The affair was soundly
managed by the mob and a tie resulted, so that Martin had to give a
casting vote. Imploring faces were turned towards him: the opening of
the window was plainly a matter of life and death to that
valetudinarian assembly.

"Keep it open," said Martin, determined to abide by his first order.

There were subdued cheers and moans, nasal snufflings and raucous
coughs. Above it all the voice of Granny was heard.

"May I borrow some quinine?" he demanded.

Martin now saw the folly of his actions. The matter had