tea directly," he explained. "Can't you hear her
puffing up the stairs? I expect a catastrophe every time she does it." He
set two chairs at the table and gazed eagerly at the doorway.

She appeared at last with heaving bosom carrying a large tray, and began to
lay the table. I observed with great interest that she was placing a whole
kidney for each of us, and that there were also potato chips and six jam
puffs. Harry bade me sit down with the air of one who entertains a guest of
importance; I swelled with pride as I attacked the kidney.

Harry, sitting opposite, eating with a gusto equal to my own, seemed to me
the most perfect and luckiest of mortals.

"Harry!" I got it out through my mouth full of potato chips, "Harry, I say!
Do you always have jolly things like these to eat?"

He gave a short laugh.

"Oh, no, my John! On the contrary there are many times when I do not eat at
all. However, I paid a visit to an uncle of mine yesterday, who gave me so
much money that I shall live well for some time to come, but--I shall never
know the time o'day."

"Oh, but that's fine--" I cried, "Not to know the time! I wish I didn't for
it's always time to go to bed, or do lessons, or take a tiresome walk with
Mrs. Handsomebody."

Harry stared hard at me. "What do you suppose," he asked, "she'll do to
you, for skipping dinner? Something pretty hot?"

"I dunno," I returned. "It's a new sort of badness. P'raps I'll have to do
without tea, or maybe she'll write to father--she's always threatening.
Don't let's talk about it."

"She appears to be a rather poisonous old party," commented Harry. "I see
that it behooves me to get to business and tell you just why I brought you
here." He pushed back his plate and took from his pocket a short thick pipe
and lighted it.

"Now John," he smiled, "just finish up those jam puffs. Don't leave one, or
my landlady will eat it, and she has double chins enough. I want to talk to
you as man to man."

Man to man! How I wished that Angel could see me, being made the confidant
of Harry! I helped myself to my third jam puff with an air of cool
deliberation.

"Now--" Harry leant across the table, his eyes on mine, "What sort of
looking man would you expect my father to be, John?"

I studied Harry and hazarded--"A brown face, and awfully thin, and greenish
eyes, and crinkly brown hair."

"Wrong!" cried Harry, smiting the table. "My father's got a full pink face,
the bluest of eyes and a fine