See Durfy doesn't
get hold of him. Could you ever scrape up six-and-six, and pay it for
me to Blandford, whose address I give below? It's something he lent me
for a particular purpose when I last saw him. Do try. I would enclose
it, but till Christmas I have scarcely enough to keep myself. I wish
they would pay weekly instead of quarterly. I would be awfully obliged
if you would manage to pay the six-and-six somehow or other. If you do,
see he gets it, and knows it comes from me, and send me a line to say he
has got it. Don't forget, there's a brick. Love to mother and young
Gedge. I wish I could see you all this minute."

Horace felt decidedly blue after receiving this letter, and purposely
withheld it from his mother. Had he been sure Reginald was prosperous
and happy in his new work, this separation would not have mattered so
much, but all along he had had his doubts on both these points, and the
letter only confirmed them.

At any rate he determined to lose no time in easing his brother's mind
of the two chief causes of his anxiety. The very next Saturday he
appropriated six-and-six of his slender wages, and devoted the evening
to finding out Blandford's rooms, and paying him the money.

Fortunately his man was at home, an unusual circumstance at that hour of
the night, and due solely to the fact that he and Pillans, his fellow-
lodger, were expecting company; indeed, the page-boy (for our two gay
sparks maintained a "tiger" between them) showed Horace up the moment he
arrived, under the delusion that he was one of the guests. Blandford
and his friend, sitting in state to receive their distinguished
visitors, among whom were to be the real owner of a racehorse, a real
jockey, a real actor, and a real wine-merchant, these open-hearted and
knowing young men were considerably taken aback to find a boy of
Horace's age and toilet ushered into their august presence. Blandford
would have preferred to appear ignorant of the identity of the intruder,
but Horace left him no room for that amiable fraud.

"Hullo, Bland!" said he, just as if he had seen him only yesterday at
Wilderham, "what a jolly lot of stairs you keep in this place. I
thought I should never smoke you out. How are you, old man?"

And before the horrified dandy could recover from his surprise, he found
his hand being warmly shaken by his old schoolfellow.

Horace, sublimely unconscious of the impression he was creating,
indulged in a cr