Mater, for Heaven's sake don't come fussing round here! We've been
smoking some filthy cigars--little beastly Brown dared us to--and there's
been the devil to pay. I can't get up. My tummy won't let me."

"Oh, Julian, why do you do it?" said Mrs. Lorimer, in great distress.
"You know what your father said the last time."

She bent over him. Julian was her favourite of them all. But he turned
his face sharply to avoid her kiss.

"Don't, Mater! I don't feel up to it. I can't jaw either. I believe those
dashed cigars were poisoned. Hullo, Ronald, are you quieting down yet?"

"Shut up!" growled Ronald.

His brother laughed again sardonically. "Stick to it, my hearty! There's
a swishing in store for us. The mater always gives the show away."

"Julian!" It was Avery's voice; she spoke with quick decision. "You've
got exactly an hour--you and Ronald--to pull yourselves together. Don't
lie here any longer! Get up and go out! Go for a hard walk! No, of course
you don't feel like it. But it will do you good. You want to get that
horrible stuff out of your lungs. Quick! Go now--while you can!"

"But I can't!" declared Julian.

"Yes, you can,--you must! You too, Ronald! Where are your coats? Pop them
on and make a dash for it! You'll come back better. Perhaps you will get
out of the swishing after all."