every stop, till we had eight in full blast. 

 “Look out, cabby, and be kind to that hamper with my best china. What is it? Oh, that's some really decent booze for the festivities—three dozen Ripon stone ginger; and there's a dozen among my shirts. Can't get that tipple in the South. How are you, Lucy and Mary? I've got a pair of spiffing caps for you; do for church if you like. But where is the youthful Marguerite? She used to be always dodging round, pretending that she was just passing by accident. Dinner ready? All right; I'm pretty keen, too. Tell Magsibus I'll be down after dessert with a brimming bowl of stone ginger. 

 “Hello, old lady! As you didn't come up to welcome the returning prodigal at the door, he's come down to give you his blessing. It's all right, Mag, I was only fooling. You daren't have taken your eye off that pudding one minute, I know. It was A 1; best thing you ever did, and awfully good to have it for the first night. 

 “That gingerbread you sent took the cup this term, and no second. Fellows offered to do my lines for me, and sucked up to me no end just to get a slice. Ain't that the tin up there you make it in? Chap next study had a thing he called gingerbread—feeblest show you ever saw—burnt crust outside and wet dough inside. 

 “There's the old brass jam-pan, Peg, ain't it? Do you remember when Billy Poole and I used to help at the boiling, and get the skim for our share? Billy's won a scholarship at Cambridge; youngest chap to take it, and is a howling Greek swell, but you bet he hasn't forgot that hot jam. Not he; was asking for you last week. I'll get him here next autumn before he goes up, and we'll have a jam blow-out.... What's wrong, Magsy? 

 “Don't blub. Tell me who's been hitting you. Is it those two young fools? The mater will soon settle their hash. Here's my handkerchief. There, now you're all right, ar'n't you?”  

 “It's really silly of me, Master Jack, and I ought to be ashamed of myself, at my age too, but it was you speaking of next year. I thought perhaps your mother had told you that... I am leaving tomorrow.”  

 “Going to leave us and your home?” and Jack sat down on the kitchen table in stark amazement. “Where would you go to, Magsy? Why, you nursed me when I was a kid, and you knew the pater when he was a fellow at school. Why, you couldn't get on without us, and, look here, this circus can't be worked without you. 

 “If you don't feel fit for the cooking,—and it must be a beastly stew over the 

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