ittle at the oddly assorted couple, but the money
rang true and the order was booked.

As they hurried towards Clare Street, Christopher diffidently asked if
there was anything Mrs. Sartin would like, and Sam's sharp wits seized
the occasion to please his mother and Christopher and serve himself at
the same time.

"Come on to my place and send her some lettuce," he suggested.
"Mother's main fond of lettuce. We've got some good 'uns in this
morning."

It was strictly true; it was also true that Master Sam had outstayed
his meal-time and a new customer might help to avert the probable
storm awaiting him, as indeed it did.

Mr. Gruner, greengrocer, was standing at the door of his shop looking
both ways down the street at once, owing to a remarkable squint, and
his reception of Sam was unfriendly, but quickly checked at the sight
of his companion, whose extraordinary terms of intimacy with his
errand boy rendered the good man nearly speechless. The young gent,
however, ordered lettuces and green peas with a free hand and earned
Sam's pardon, as anticipated by that far-sighted youth.

The two boys said good-bye and Sam made no hint as to the
possibilities of a future meeting, neither did Christopher,
embarrassed by the presence of the greengrocer. He also would be late
and hurried off, hoping he might still be in time to give Aymer tea
and relate his adventures. He had no misgivings at all as to Caesar's
approval of his doings.

As he came out into a main thoroughfare again he passed a big cheap
drapery establishment and something in the gaudy, crude colouring
there displayed brought him to a standstill. Jessie was still
unprovided with a present. The two had exchanged very few words, but
she by no means loomed in the background of the picture. He stood
staring at the window and fingering the remaining coins in his pocket.
One section of the shop front was hung with gaily-coloured feather
boas. He was dimly conscious he had seen Mrs. Wyatt wear something of
the sort in soft grey. There was a blue one that was the colour of
Jessie's blouse, or so Christopher thought, hanging high up. He did
not admire it at all, but it suggested Jessie to him and after a
moment's consideration he boldly pushed through the swinging doors
and marched up the shop.

"I want one of those feather things in the window," he announced to
the shop-walker's assiduous attentions.

He was delivered over to the care of an amused young woman, who