sofa and chairs, and flung big soft cushions about them, and said “Hurrah!  The first time I’ve been really comfortable since I left Cambridge.”  Then he bathed Thomas and put him into a new little soft cambric night-shirt, and put him to bed in the rocking-cradle.  Thomas was delighted with it all.  He had no doubt inherited Peter’s love of all things bright and beautiful, and now for the first time he had them.

“That’s more the style, isn’t it, old man?” said Peter, stretching himself among cushions in the arm-chair.  Thomas agreed that it was, and the two epicureans took their ease among the pleasures of the senses.

“What next?” Peter wondered.  “We must have more things still, mustn’t we?  Nice things of all sorts; not only the ones we can buy.  But we must begin with the ones we can buy....  Mrs. Baker will have to wait for her rent for a time; I can’t spare any for that....  I’ve a good mind, Thomas, to take a whole holiday; a long one.  Chuck the envelopes and take to living like a lord, on tick.  It’s wonderful how far tick will carry you, if you try.  Muffins for tea, you see, Thomas, only you can’t have any.  Well, what’s the matter?  Why shouldn’t I have muffins for tea?  You’ve got milk, haven’t you, and I’m not getting a share in that.  Don’t be grudging....  But we want more than muffins and milk, Thomas; and more than cushions and daffodils and nice pictures.  We want a good time.  We want friends; we want someone to love us; we want a holiday.  If Leslie was in England I’d go and say, ’Thomas and I are coming to stay with you for a time, and you’ve just got to fork out supplies for us and let us spend them.’  Leslie would do it, too.  But people are always away when one wants them most....  Oh, hang it all, Thomas, I’m not going on with those horrible envelopes; I’m not.  I’m going to do things I like.  Why shouldn’t I?  Why shouldn’t I?  Lots of people do; all the best people.  I shall give notice to-morrow.  No, I shan’t; I shall just not turn up, then I shan’t be bothered with questions....  And we’re not going on with the friends we have here—­Mrs. Baker, and the Girl, and the other envelope-gummers.  No; we’re going to insist on having nice amusing friends to play with; friends who are nicer than we are.  The Girl isn’t so nice, not by a long way.  Rodney is; but he’s too busy to be bothered with us much.  We want friends of leisure.  We will have them; we will.  Why should we be chucked out and left outside people’s doors, just because they’re tired of us?  The thing that matters is that we’re not tired of them....  To-morrow, Thomas, you and I are going down to a place called Astleys, in Berkshire, to visit some friends of ours.  If they don’t want us, they can just lump us; good for them.  Why should they always have only the things they want?  Be ready at nine, old man, and we’ll catch a train as soon after that as may be.”

Thomas laughed, thinking it a splendid plan.  He had never seen Astleys in Berkshire, but he knew it to be a good place, from Peter’s voice when he mentioned it.