other, darting an indignant
glance at his sisters as he did so. "Humbugging me as usual about
mamma--anything to keep me away from her," he muttered. But Elsa and
Frances only glanced at each other in despair.

"Well," said Mrs. Tudor, resignedly, leaning back in her chair.

"Mamma," began Geoffrey, "there must be something done about my
pocket-money. I just can't do with what I've got. I've waited to speak
about it till I had talked it over with some of the other fellows. They
nearly all have more than I."

"Boys of your age--surely not?" interposed Mrs. Tudor.

[Illustration: "THERE MUST BE SOMETHING DONE ABOUT MY POCKET-MONEY."]

"Well, _some_ of them are not older than I," allowed Geoff. "If you'd
give me more, and let me manage things for myself--football boots,
and cricket-shoes, and that sort of thing. The girls"--with cutting
emphasis--"are always hinting that I ask you for too many things, and
_I_ hate to be seeming to be always at you for something. If you'd give
me a regular allowance, now, and let me manage for myself."

"At your age," repeated his mother, "that surely is very unusual."

"I don't see that it matters exactly about age," said Geoff, "if one's
got sense."

"But have you got sense enough, Geoff?" said Frances, gently. "I'm three
years older than you, and I've only just begun to have an allowance for
my clothes, and I should have got into a dreadful mess if it hadn't been
for Elsa helping me."

"Girls are quite different," said Geoff. "They want all sorts of
rubbishing ribbons and crinolines and flounces. Boys only need regular
necessary things."

"Then you haven't any wants at present, I should think, Geoff," said
Elsa, in her peculiarly clear, rather aggravating tones. "You were
completely rigged out when you came back from the country, three weeks
ago."

Geoff glowered at her.

"Mamma," he said, "will you once for all make Elsa and Frances
understand that when I'm speaking to you they needn't interfere?"

Mrs. Tudor did not directly respond to this request.

"Will you tell me, Geoff," she said, "what has put all this into your
head? What things are you in want of?"

Geoff hesitated. Fancied wants, like fancied grievances, have an
annoying trick of refusing to answer to the roll-call when distinctly
summoned to do so.

"There's lots of things," he began. "I _should_ have a pair of proper
football boots, instead of just an old common pair with ribs stuck on,
you know, like I