rge.

I laid the imposition on Mrs. Handsomebody's desk, and listlessly set out
to find the others. I could hear Mary Ellen in the kitchen thumping a mop
against the legs of the furniture in a savage manner that bespoke no mood
of airy persiflage. Therefore, I did not go down the back stairs, but
throwing a leg over the hand-rail of the front stairs, I slowly slid to the
bottom, and rested there a space on my stomach, an attitude peaceful, and
conducive to clear thinking.

I reviewed the situation dispassionately. Here was I, who had scarcely been
at all to blame, humiliated, an outcast, so to speak, while Angel, who had
made the beastly mess, went unscathed. As for The Seraph! I could scarcely
bear to think of him with his tell-tale sticky little chin.

Voices roused me. Buoyant with animation, they penetrated beyond the closed
front door. A loud unknown voice, mingled with those of Angel and The
Seraph.

In an instant, I was on my feet, my nose pressed against one of the narrow
windows of ruby-coloured glass that were on either side of the hall door. I
could see three small red figures in animated conversation on the square
grass plot before the house. The largest of the three began to execute a
masterly hop, skip and jump on the crimson grass. Above arched the sanguine
sky.

I opened the door and closing it softly behind me, stood on the steps.

The newcomer was a sturdy fellow about a year older than Angel. He had a
devil-may-care air about him, and he wore, at a rakish angle, a cap,
bearing the badge of a well-known school. He turned to me instantly.

"Well," he said, "you're a rum-lookin' pup."

I was rather abashed at such a greeting, but I held my ground. "My name is
John," I replied simply.

"Oh, Lord!" he groaned. "_John!_ Don't you know enough to give your
surname? Eh? I wish we had you at my school for a term. We'd lick you into
shape."

"His surname is Curzon, too," put in Angel, "same as mine."

"Very well, then," said the boy, "you're Curzon major, Curzon minor, and
Curzon minimus. Hear that, Curzon minimus?" he shouted, tweaking The
Seraph's ear.

"I say," said Angel, "you let him alone!" And I ran down the steps. The boy
stared.

"Don't you keep him in order?" he asked.

"Rather," replied Angel, "but I don't hurt him for nothing."

"I have two young brothers," said the boy, "and I hurt them for next to
nothing. Licks 'em into shape."

He looked around him and then added, "There's no