---"

Paul walked away from him with marked coolness. He was not going to
trouble himself to talk to his son's schoolfellows.

"Aren't you well?" said the boy, not at all discouraged by his
reception, following him and taking his arm. "Down in the mouth? It is
beastly, isn't it, having to go back to old Grimstone's! The snow gave
us an extra week, though--we've that much to be thankful for. I wish it
was the first day of the holidays again, don't you? What's the matter
with you? What have I done to put you in a wax?"

"Nothing at present," said Paul. "I don't speak to you merely because I
don't happen to have the--ah--pleasure of your acquaintance."

"Oh, very well, then; I daresay you know best," said the other huffily.
"Only I thought--considering we came the same half, and have been chums,
and always sat next one another ever since--you might perhaps just
recollect having met me before, you know."

"Well, I don't," said Mr. Bultitude. "I tell you I haven't the least
idea what your name is. The fact is there has been a slight mistake,
which I can't stop to talk about now. There's a cab just driven up
outside now. You must excuse me, really, my boy, I want to go."

He tried to work his arm free from the close and affectionate grip of
his unwelcome companion, who was regarding him with a sort of admiring
leer.

"What a fellow you are, Bultitude!" he said; "always up to something or
other. You know me well enough. What is the use of keeping it up any
longer? Let's talk, and stop humbugging. How much grub have you brought
back this time?"

To be advised to stop humbugging, and be persecuted with such idle
questions as these, maddened the poor gentleman. A hansom really had
rolled up to the steps outside. He must put an end to this waste of
precious time, and escape from this highly inconvenient small boy.

He forced his way to the door, the boy still keeping fast hold of his
arm. Fortunately the cab was still there, and its late occupant, a tall,
broad man, was standing with his back to them paying the driver. Paul
was only just in time.

"Porter!" he cried. "Where's that porter? I want my box put on that cab.
No, I don't care about the luggage; engage the cab. Now, you little
ruffian, are you going to let me go? Can't you see I'm anxious to get
away?"

Jolland giggled more impishly than ever. "Well, you _have_ got cheek!"
he said. "Go on, I wish you may get that cab, I'm sure!"

Paul, thus released, was ju