put
in by the boys, followed by a few observations which gradually, by the
adroit piloting of the host, loyally backed up by his wife, developed
into a discussion on the use and abuse of "third man up" in modern
cricket. After this knotty point was disposed of the talk grew more
general, and Wally became aware that his brother was handing him the
apricot jam.

The act, simple in itself, meant a great deal to Wally. He liked
apricot jam, and had not been able to get at it all the evening. As he
now helped himself he admitted to himself that Percy was not quite such
a lout as he had occasionally thought him.

"Thanks awfully, Percy. Did you like that toffee I gave you the other
day?"

"Rather. It was spiffing," said Percy. "I say, I don't mind writing
home this week if you like."

"Oh, don't you grind; I will."

"Really I don't mind."

"No more do I. I say, can you reach the butter?"

"Rather. Better rinse this dish up here between us. There's another
down there."

Similar scenes of reconciliation were taking place elsewhere. Cottle
was asking Ashby his riddle; D'Arcy was laying down the law in the
admiring hearing of Ramshaw and Lickford as to the cooking of sprats on
the shovel; while Fisher minor was telling the sympathetic Mrs Stratton
all about the people at home. Mr Stratton was wise enough not to
disturb this state of affairs by talk of his own. When, however, the
meal began to flag, and his guests one by one abandoned the attack, he
proposed an adjournment to the drawing-room.

"I want the advice of you youngsters," said he presently, "about
something I dare say you all know something about. I mean the old
School shop."

The party looked guilty. Didn't they know the tuck-shop?

"It seems to me," said Mr Stratton, "it's rather in a bad way just now;
don't you think so? Robert hasn't time to look after it, and wants to
give it up. He says it doesn't pay; and really some of his things
aren't particularly nice. I went and had a jam tart there this morning.
It was like shoe-leather; and the jam was almost invisible."

Wally laughed. He knew those tarts well.

"I think it would be a pity if it was given up; don't you? We all want
a little grub now and then; besides, it's an old School institution."

"Robert charges three-halfpence a-piece for those tarts," said D'Arcy.

"Yes--think of that. I've no doubt you could get them for half the
price at Penchurch. What I was thinking was