d's could only
have looked out and witnessed their triumph.

Little they dreamed that at that moment Wally, Ashby, D'Arcy, and Fisher
minor, resplendent in shirts and collars fresh from the wash, with their
eight hands encased in white kid and their eight feet in patent leather,
were standing about in Mr Stratton's drawing-room, wondering who on
earth it was whose non-arrival was preventing the ringing of the tea-
bell.

When presently Percy and his party were ushered in, and discovered who
were their fellow-guests, it did some credit to their breeding that they
remembered to go up and shake hands with Mr and Mrs Stratton, and did
not immediately fly at the enemy's throat. The enemy, however, were
equally taken aback, and were fully entitled to half the credit for the
self-control with which the discovery was received.

"There's no need to introduce you to one another, I'm sure," said Mr
Stratton. "By the way, Wheatfield--you I mean," pointing to Percy, "I
must apologise for calling you minor. It was very kind of you to put me
right."

Wally glared up at this, and would have liked to put the matter right
there and then, but Mrs Stratton said--

"It isn't fair to number twins at all, is it?"

"Unless," suggested D'Arcy, blushing to find himself talking, "unless
you reckon them half each."

This only mended matters to the extent of raising a laugh at the expense
of the twins, who felt mutually uncomfortable.

The tea-bell, however, relieved the tension, "Come," said the hostess.
"You must take one another in. No, that won't do, all Mr Wakefield's
boys together. Two of you come this side--that's right; and Cottle and
Ramshaw, you go over there. Now, you're beautifully sorted. Edward,
dear, you mustn't talk till you've handed round the tea-cake to our
guests. Lickford, do you take cream and sugar? And you too, twins? Oh
really, dear, you don't call those slices, do you? Do let Ashby cut up
the cake; I'm sure he knows better than you what a slice is; don't you,
Ashby?"

Apparently Ashby did; and the party, thus genially thrown together and
set to work, soon began, to experience the balmy influences of a
convivial high tea.

Very little was spoken at first except by Mr Stratton, who gave a brief
account of a University cricket match in which he had once played--a
narrative which served as a most soothing refrain to the silent exercise
in which his listeners were engaged. Presently a few questions were