“Why—why, you’re Topknot’s pal, aren’t you?” he said. Then he saw that David was with a girl. “I beg your pardon,” he added quickly, raising the enviable hat. David took his courage in his hands: probably it was awful cheek, but after all it was in the holidays, and they were not at school. “Oh, this is my sister,” he said. “Margery, this is Mr. Maddox.” Maddox shook hands, and turned to David again. “Do tell me your name,” he said, “for the only piece of it I can remember is ‘David.’ You came down to try for a scholarship and stayed at Adams’s.” It seemed wonderful to David that anybody so great should remember anything. “Blaize,” he said. “Of course. And so you and David live here, Miss Blaize, in this ripping town. I never saw such a jolly place. I could prowl about the close and the cathedral for weeks.” “Yes, my pater’s Archdeacon,” said David. “I wish mine was,” said Maddox. “But I’ve got some right here. I came down two days ago to stay with my uncle, who’s Bishop. I expect you know him, don’t you? He’s got one of those gorgeous houses in the close.” David again made a stupendous call on his courage. “I say, won’t you come to tea?” he blurted out, “if you like these houses in the close. We live in one, you know. Margy, do ask him.” “David and I would like it awfully if you would come,” she said. Maddox laughed, and he tilted his head back a little as he laughed, and on the moment that appeared to David the only possible way to laugh. “Thank you, very much,” he said. “We should all three like it awfully then, so why shouldn’t we do it? But may I just look through this box? I love looking through old book-trays. You never know what you mayn’t find, though personally I never find anything but volumes of antique sermons printed by request of a few friends. Have you been buying something?” “Yes, but only an old Keats,” said David, holding it out to him. Maddox looked at the title-page, which was intact, and his eyes grew round. “My goodness, you lucky beggar!” he said. “And you bought it just this minute?” “Yes, why?” “Only because it’s a book that a book-lover would give a lot for. Second edition of Keats, that’s all. O Lord, if I hadn’t sat down doing nothing after lunch, instead of coming here!” “Oh, I say, please take it then,” said David. “I didn’t know anything about it. I just thought I would like a Keats. Any other one would be all the same to me.” Maddox looked at him gravely a moment, and then began to smile. “Thanks very much,” he said, “and I will then sell it you, if you like, for ten pounds.” Then he laughed again. “I’m a greedy brute,” he said, “but there are limits. Take it back quick, or it will grow on to my fingers. You are a lucky chap.” “Ten pounds?” said David incredulously. “I should think about that, but I don’t really know I’m not in the habit of buying second editions of Keats. Let’s look again a minute; I’ll try to give it you back. Yes, it’s quite complete.”