nd down through
the playground into the box-room, Paul amongst the rest, and amidst
universal confusion, everyone opened his box, and, with a consideration
especially laudable in heedless boyhood, thoughtfully and carefully
removed from it all such dainties as might be calculated to shock or
pain their preceptor.

Mr. Bultitude found a key which was labelled "playbox," and began to
open a box which bore Dick's initials cut upon the lid; without any
apprehensions, however, for he had given too strict orders to his
daughter, to fear that any luxuries would be concealed there.

But no sooner had he raised the lid than he staggered back with disgust.
It was crammed with cakes, butterscotch, hardbake, pots of jam, and even
a bottle of ginger wine--enough to compromise a chameleon!

He set himself to pitch them all out as soon as possible with feverish
haste, but Tipping was too quick for him. "Hallo!" he cried: "oh, I say,
you fellows, come here! Just look at this! Here's this impudent young
beggar, who sneaked of poor old Coggs for sucking jujubes, and very
nearly got us all into a jolly good row, with his own box full all the
time; butterscotch, if you please, and jam, and ginger wine! You'll just
put 'em all back again, will you, you young humbug!"

"Do you use those words to me, sir?" said Paul angrily, for he did not
like to be called a humbug.

"Yes, sir, please, sir," jeered Tipping; "I did venture to take such a
liberty, sir."

"Then it was like your infernal impudence," growled Paul. "You be kind
enough to leave my affairs alone. Upon my word, what boys are coming to
nowadays!"

"Are you going to put that tuck back?" said Tipping impatiently.

"No, sir, I'm not. Don't interfere with what you're not expected to
understand!"

"Well, if you won't," said Tipping easily, "I suppose we must.
Biddlecomb, kindly knock him down, and sit on his head while I fill his
playbox for him."

This was neatly and quickly done. Biddlecomb tripped Mr. Bultitude up,
and sat firmly on him, while Tipping carefully replaced the good things
in Dick's box, after which he locked it, and courteously returned the
key. "As the box is heavy," he said, with a wicked wink, "I'll carry it
up for you myself," which he did, Paul following, more dead than alive,
and too shaken even to expostulate.

"Bultitude's box was rather too heavy for him, sir," he explained as he
came in; and Dr. Grimstone, who had quite recovered his equanimity,
sm