elling was nearly as bad as
Barbara's, but he seemed to think his own mistakes a great joke, and
didn't care a straw how many marks he gave to the other players. In
"Bell and Hammer," however, he always managed to buy the "White Horse,"
while other people would squander their all in bidding for a card which
perhaps turned out after all to be only the "Hammer." At "Snap" he was
simply terrible; he literally swept the board, but kept passing
portions of his winnings under the table to Barbara, whose pile seemed
to be as inexhaustible as the widow's cruse. By the end of the evening
he was the life of the party, and no one would have believed that he
was the same boy who, a few hours ago, had come up the front path
wishing in his secret heart that he was safely back at Melchester
writing lines in the Upper Fourth classroom.

He and Valentine shared a delightful, old four-post bed, which in times
gone by had had the marvellous property of turning itself into a tent,
a gipsy van, or a raft, which, though launched from a sinking ship in
the very middle of a stormy ocean, always managed to bring its crew of
distressed mariners safely to shore in time to answer Queen Mab's
cheery call of "Tea's ready!"

"It is nice to be here," said Valentine, dropping his head upon the
pillow with a sigh of contentment. "Aren't you glad you came?"

"Yes," answered Jack. "Aunt Mabel seems so jolly kind and glad to see
you. I wish you hadn't told her about all those rows I got into; I
don't think she'll like me when she knows me better."

"Oh, yes, she will! Don't you like Helen?"

"Yes; I think she has the nicest face I ever saw. But she's too good
for me, Val, my boy. I think I shall get on better with Barbara; she's
more like a boy, and I don't think I shall ever be a ladies' man."

Valentine laughed; the idea of Fenleigh J. of the Upper Fourth ever
becoming a ladies' man was certainly rather comical.

"You'll like Helen when you get to know her. I wouldn't exchange her
as a sister for any other girl in the kingdom. Well--good-night!"

That one evening at Brenlands had done more towards forming a
friendship between the two boys than all the ninety odd days which they
had already spent in each other's company. The next afternoon,
however, they were destined to become still more united; and the manner
in which this came about was as follows.

During the morning the weather held up, but by dinner time it was
raining again.