"Jolly awkward," said he; "what have you had ?" Whereupon Master Ashby, the new boy, entered on a detailed confession, which D'Arcy, evidently an expert at mental arithmetic, "totted up" as he went along.
"How many times pudding did you say ?" he asked towards the end, "Twice and a bit." "Three and ten; I dare say he won't be stiff about the bit, three and ten; and that roll and butter--" "I've not eaten them." "No, but you've touched them.

You'll be charged, unless you can get a fellow to take them off your hands." "Will _you_ have them ?" asked Ashby.
Whereupon there was a laugh at _D'Arcy's_ expense, which annoyed that young gentleman.
"I don't want your second-hand grub.

You'd better take it round and see what you can get for it." Ashby looked at the bread, and then glanced round the table.
"No," said he, "I'll have it and pay for it, if it comes to that." "That'll be four bob." Ashby gave a gulp of despair.
"I've not got so much." "Then you'll get in a jolly row." "Could you lend me one and six, I say ?" asked the new boy.
Again D'Arcy got the worst of the laugh.
"Didn't you hear me say I'd only just got enough to pay for my own?
But I tell you what; you can hide under the table.

You're not known." Ashby looked round, and felt about with his foot under the table to ascertain what room there might be there.

Then he flushed up.