“My dear young Friends,—­Owe you three-and-sixpence for Blob’s biscuits, do I?  Don’t you know that it is not polite to remind people of their debts?  When you would have been paid that money I cannot think, if it were not for a circumstance detailed below.  I have just been reading that the finest minds always possess a keen sense of humour, so if you find nothing to laugh at in this, it will prove that there is nothing particular in you.  Did I ever think there was?  Well, why will you ask such awkward questions?—­Off!

     THE NOBLE TUCK-MAN.

     Americus as he did wend
       With A.J.  Mortimer, his chum,
     The two were greeted by a friend,
       “And how are you, boys, Hi, Ho, Hum?”

     He spread a note so crisp, so neat
       (Ho and Hi, and tender Hum),

     “If you of this a fifth can eat
     I’ll give you the remainder.  Come!”

     To the tuck-shop three repair
     (Ho and Hum, and pensive Hi),
     One looks on to see all’s fair
     Two call out for hot mince pie.

     Thirteen tarts, a few Bath buns
     (Hi and Hum, and gorgeous Ho),
     Lobster cakes (the butter’d ones),
     All at once they cry “No go.”

     Than doth tuck-man smile.  “Them there
     (Ho and Hi, and futile Hum)
     Jellies three and sixpence air,
     Use of spoons an equal sum.”

     Three are rich.  Sweet task ’tis o’er,
     “Tuckman, you’re a brick,” they cry,
     Wildly then shake hands all four
     (Hum and Ho, the end is Hi).

“N.B.—­He spoke as good English as we did, and we did not shake hands with him.  Such is poetic license.  I may have exaggerated a little, as to the number of things we ate.  I repeat, I may have done.  You will never be able to appreciate me till you have learned to make allowance for such little eccentricities of genius.

“Yours, with sentiments that would do anybody credit,

“Gifford Crayshaw.”

The second letter, which was also addressed to both sisters, was from Johnnie, and ran as follows:—­

“Now look here, you two fellows are not to expect me to spend all my spare time in writing to you.  Where do you think I am now?  Why, at Brighton.

“Val’s a brick.  Yesterday was our Exeat, and he came down to Harrow, called for me and Cray, and brought us here to the Old Ship Hotel.  We two chose the dinner, and in twenty minutes that dinner was gone like a dream.  Val and Cray made the unlucky waiter laugh till he dropped the butter-boat.  The waiter was a proud man—­I never saw a prouder.  He had made up his mind that nothing should make him laugh, but at last we had him.  Beware of pride, my friends.

“Then we went to the Aquarium.  My wig!  I never saw anything so extraordinary.  It ought to be called the Aquaria, for there are dozens of them.  They are like large rooms full of water, and you go and look in at the fish through the windows.  No, they’re more like caves than rooms, they have rocks for walls.  Talk of the ancient Greeks!  I’ll never wish to be one of those fogies again!  I’ve seen turtles now under water, sitting opposite to one another, bowing and looking each in his fellow’s face, just like two cats on a rug.  Why the world’s full of things that they knew nothing about.