"Bobby Ferris told me," began Edward in due course, "that there
was a fellow spooning his sister once--"

"What's spooning?" I asked meekly.

"Oh, _I_ dunno," said Edward, indifferently. It's--it's--it's
just a thing they do, you know. And he used to carry notes and
messages and things between 'em, and he got a shilling almost
every time."

"What, from each of 'em?" I innocently inquired.

Edward looked at me with scornful pity. "Girls never have any
money," he briefly explained. "But she did his exercises and got
him out of rows, and told stories for him when he needed it--and
much better ones than he could have made up for himself. Girls
are useful in some ways. So he was living in clover, when
unfortunately they went and quarrelled about something."

"Don't see what that's got to do with it," I said.

"Nor don't I," rejoined Edward. "But anyhow the notes and things
stopped, and so did the shillings. Bobby was fairly cornered,
for he had bought two ferrets on tick, and promised to pay a
shilling a week, thinking the shillings were going on for ever,
the silly young ass. So when the week was up, and he was being
dunned for the shilling, he went off to the fellow and said,
`Your broken-hearted Bella implores you to meet her at sundown,--
by the hollow oak, as of old, be it only for a moment. Do not
fail!' He got all that out of some rotten book, of course.