er. I was still exploring when an eager
summons brought me to the bedside.

"Let's play cricket!" cried Ronnie--"do you mind? With a pack of
cards--my own invention! Everything up to six counts properly; all over
six count singles, except the picture cards, and most of them get you
out. King and queen are caught and bowled, but the old knave's Mr.
Extras!"

"Capital, Ronnie!" said I. "Shall it be single wicket between us two, or
the next test-match with Australia?"

Ronnie was all for the test, and really the rules worked very well. You
shuffled after the fall of every wicket, and you never knew your luck.
Tom Richardson, the last man in for England, made sixty-two, while some
who shall be nameless went down like ninepins in the van. In the next
test (at Lord's) we elaborated the laws to admit of stumping, running
out, getting leg-before and even hitting wicket. But the red kings and
queens still meant a catch or what Ronnie called "a row in your timber
yard." And so the afternoon wore on, until I had to mend the fire and
light the gas; and then somehow the cards seemed only cards, and we put
them away for that season.

I forget why it was that Ronnie suddenly wanted his knife. I rather
think that he was deliberately rallying his possessions about him in
philosophic preparation for a lengthy campaign between the sheets. In
any case there was no finding that knife, but something much more
interesting came to light instead.

I was conducting the search under directions from the bed, but I was out
of sight behind the screen when I kicked up the corner of loose carpet
and detected the loosened board. Here, thought I, was a secret
repository where the missing possession might have been left by mistake;
there were the actual marks of a blade upon the floor. "This looks a
likely place," I said; but I did not specify the place I meant, and the
next moment I had discovered neither knife nor pencil, but the soiled,
unframed photograph of a lovely lady.

There it had lain under the movable bit of board, which had made a
certain noise in the moving. That same second Ronnie bounded out of bed,
and I to my feet to chase him back again.

"Who told you to look in there? Give that to me this minute!
No--no--please put it back where you--where you found it!"

His momentary rage had already broken down in sobs, but he stood over me
while I quickly did as he begged and replaced the carpet; then I tucked
him up again, but for some