The conclave locked itself once more into the library. ‘Look here, I’m not going through that dog-whip business again,’ protested Rollo.

‘Certainly not, dear,’ said the elder Wrotsley; ‘we’ll try the whalebone switch this time, and then you’ll know which hurts most. It’s only by personal experience that one finds out these things.’

It was swiftly borne in upon Rollo that his earlier selection of the dog-whip had been a really sound one. The conclave gave his under-lip time to steady itself while it debated the choice of the necessary word. ‘Mustang’ was no good, as half the girls wouldn’t know what it meant; finally ‘quagga’ was pitched on.

‘You must come and sit down over here,’ chorused the investigating committee on their return; but Rollo was obdurate in insisting that the questioned person always stood up. On the whole, it was a relief when the game was ended and supper was announced.

Mrs. Jallatt did not stint her young guests, but the more expensive delicacies of her supper-table were never unnecessarily duplicated, and it was usually good policy to take what you wanted while it was still there. On this occasion she had provided sixteen peaches to ‘go round’ among fourteen children; it was really not her fault that the two Wrotsleys and their cousin, foreseeing the long foodless drive home, had each quietly pocketed an extra peach, but it was distinctly trying for Dolores and the fat and good- natured Agnes Blaik to be left with one peach between them.

‘I suppose we had better halve it,’ said Dolores sourly.

But Agnes was fat first and good-natured afterwards; those were her guiding principles in life. She was profuse in her sympathy for Dolores, but she hastily devoured the peach, explaining that it would spoil it to divide it; the juice ran out so.

‘Now what would you all like to do?’ demanded Mrs. Jallatt by way of a diversion. ‘The professional conjurer whom I had engaged has failed me at the last moment. Can any of you recite?’

There were symptoms of a general panic. Dolores was known to recite ‘Locksley Hall’ on the least provocation. There had been occasions when her opening line, ‘Comrades, leave me here a little’, had been taken as a literal injunction by a large section of her hearers. There was a murmur of relief when Rollo hastily declared that he could do a few conjuring tricks. He had never done one in his life, but those two visits to the library had goaded him to unusual recklessness.

‘You’ve seen conjuring chaps take coins and cards out of people,’ he announced; ‘well, I’m going to take more interesting things out of some of you. Mice, for instance.’

‘Not mice!’

A shrill protest rose, as he had foreseen, from the majority of his audience.

‘Well, fruit, then.’

The amended proposal was received with approval. Agnes positively beamed.

Without more ado Rollo made straight for his trio of enemies, plunged his hand successively into their breast-pockets, and produced three peaches. There was no applause, but no amount of hand-clapping would have given the performer as much pleasure as the silence which greeted his coup.

‘Of course, we were in the know,’ said the Wrotsley cousin lamely.

‘That’s done it,’ chuckled Rollo to himself.