'I daresay,' said Cyril, coldly; 'but it's not YOUR eightpence
anyhow--'

'But look here,' said Robert, 'really now, about the fireworks. We
don't want to be disgraced before those kids next door. They think
because they wear red plush on Sundays no one else is any good.'

'I wouldn't wear plush if it was ever so--unless it was black to be
beheaded in, if I was Mary Queen of Scots,' said Anthea, with scorn.

Robert stuck steadily to his point. One great point about Robert
is the steadiness with which he can stick.

'I think we ought to test them,' he said.

'You young duffer,' said Cyril, 'fireworks are like postage-stamps.
You can only use them once.'

'What do you suppose it means by "Carter's tested seeds" in the
advertisement?'

There was a blank silence. Then Cyril touched his forehead with
his finger and shook his head.

'A little wrong here,' he said. 'I was always afraid of that with
poor Robert. All that cleverness, you know, and being top in
algebra so often--it's bound to tell--'

'Dry up,' said Robert, fiercely. 'Don't you see? You can't TEST