"No—come—now we won't call it by that name; suppose some one were to give you a shilling"."
Jamie looked up interested.
"And suppose he were to say. There—go and buy sweeties with this shilling. Tartlets at three for two pence, and barley-sugar at three farthings a stick, and——"
"I want my shilling back," said Jamie, looking straight into the face of Mr. Scantlebray, senior.
"And that there were burnt almonds at two pence an ounce."
"I want my shilling," exclaimed the boy, angrily.
"Your shilling, puff! puff!" said the red-headed man. "This is ideal, an ideal shilling, and ideal jam-tarts, almond rock, burnt almonds or what you like."
"Give me back my shilling. I won it fair," persisted Jamie.
Then Judith, distressed, interfered. "Jamie, dear! what do you mean? You have no shilling owing to you."
"I have! I have!" screamed the boy. "I won it fair of that man there, because I made a rabbit, and he took it from me again."
"Hallucinations," said Jukes.
"Quite so," said Vokins.
"Give me my shilling. It is a cheat!" cried Jamie, now suddenly roused into one of his fits of passion.
Judith caught him by the arm, and endeavored to pacify him.
"Let go, Ju! I will have my shilling. That man took it away. He is a cheat, a thief. Give me my shilling."
"I am afraid he is excitable," said Vokins.
"Like all irrational beings," answered Jukes. "I'll make a note. Rising out of hallucinations."
"I will have my shilling," persisted Jamie. "Give me my shilling or I'll throw the ink at you."
He caught up the ink-pot, and before Judith had time to interfere had flung it across the table, intending to hit Mr. Scantlebray, senior, but not hurt him, and the black fluid was scattered over Mr.Vokins's white trousers.
"Bless my life!" exclaimed this gentleman, springing to his feet, pulling out his handkerchief to wipe away the ink, and only smearing it the more over his "ducks" and discoloring as well, his kerchief. "Bless my life—
