I ate it before the match. Isn't there anything else?"

Milton had a healthy appetite.

"Then there used to be some biscuits."

"Biscuits are off. I finished 'em yesterday. Look here, young Renford,
what you'd better do is cut across to the shop and get some more cake
and some more biscuits, and tell 'em to put it down to me. And don't be
long."

"A miles better idea would be to send him over to Donaldson's to fetch
something from my study," suggested Trevor. "It isn't nearly so far,
and I've got heaps of stuff."

"Ripping. Cut over to Donaldson's, young Renford. As a matter of fact,"
he added, confidentially, when the emissary had vanished, "I'm not half
sure that the other dodge would have worked. They seem to think at the
shop that I've had about enough things on tick lately. I haven't
settled up for last term yet. I've spent all I've got on this study.
What do you think of those photographs?"



Trevor got up and inspected them. They filled the mantelpiece and most
of the wall above it. They were exclusively theatrical photographs, and
of a variety to suit all tastes. For the earnest student of the drama
there was Sir Henry Irving in _The Bells_, and Mr Martin Harvey in
_The Only Way._ For the admirers of the merely beautiful there
were Messrs Dan Leno and Herbert Campbell.