'One second,' said Welch, burrowing still deeper.

'That's what you always say,' said Charteris. 'Look here--Come in.'

There had been a knock at the door as he was speaking. Tony entered,
accompanied by Jim. They were regular attendants at these banquets, for
between them they wrote most of what was left of the magazine when
Charteris had done with it. There was only one other contributor,
Jackson, of Dawson's House, and he came in a few minutes later. Welch
was the athletics expert of the paper, and did most of the match
reports.

'Now we're complete,' said Charteris, as Jackson presented himself.
'Gentlemen--your seats. There are only four chairs, and we, as
Wordsworth might have said, but didn't, are five. All right, I'll sit
on the table. Welch, you worm, away with melancholy. Take away his
book, somebody. That's right. Who says what? Tea already made. Coffee
published shortly. If anybody wants cocoa, I've got some, only you'll
have to boil more water. I regret the absence of menu-cards, but as the
entire feast is visible to the naked eye, our loss is immaterial. The
offertory will be for the Church expenses fund. Biscuits, please.'

'I wish you'd given this tea after next Saturday, Alderman,' said Jim.
Charteris was called the Alderman on account of his figure, which was
inclined to stoutness, and his general capacity for consuming food.

'Never put off till tomorrow--Why?'

'I simply must keep fit for the mile. How's Welch to run, too, if he
eats this sort of thing?' He pointed to the well-spread board.