The girls laughed shrilly. “Me as well, Nora,” said John Thomas. “Don’t know what you mean,” said Laura. “Yes, I’m toddling,” said he, rising and reaching for his overcoat. “Nay,” said Polly. “We’re all here waiting for you.” “We’ve got to be up in good time in the morning,” he said, in the benevolent official manner. They all laughed. “Nay,” said Muriel. “Don’t leave us all lonely, John Thomas. Take one!” “I’ll take the lot, if you like,” he responded gallantly. “That you won’t either,” said Muriel, “Two’s company; seven’s too much of a good thing.” “Nay—take one,” said Laura. “Fair and square, all above board, and say which.” “Ay,” cried Annie, speaking for the first time. “Pick, John Thomas; let’s hear thee.” “Nay,” he said. “I’m going home quiet tonight. Feeling good, for once.” “Whereabouts?” said Annie. “Take a good un, then. But tha’s got to take one of us!” “Nay, how can I take one,” he said, laughing uneasily. “I don’t want to make enemies.” “You’d only make _one_,” said Annie. “The chosen _one_,” added Laura. “Oh, my! Who said girls!” exclaimed John Thomas, again turning, as if to escape. “Well—good-night.” “Nay, you’ve got to make your pick,” said Muriel. “Turn your face to the wall, and say which one touches you. Go on—we shall only just touch your back—one of us. Go on—turn your face to the wall, and don’t look, and say which one touches you.” He was uneasy, mistrusting them. Yet he had not the courage to break away. They pushed him to a wall and stood him there with his face to it. Behind his back they all grimaced, tittering. He looked so comical. He looked around uneasily. “Go on!” he cried. “You’re looking—you’re looking!” they shouted. He turned his head away. And suddenly, with a movement like a swift cat, Annie went forward and fetched him a box on the side of the head that sent his cap flying and himself staggering. He started round. But at Annie’s signal they all flew at him, slapping him, pinching him, pulling his hair, though more in fun than in spite or anger. He, however, saw red. His blue eyes flamed with strange fear as well as fury, and he butted through the girls to the door. It was locked. He wrenched at it. Roused, alert, the girls stood round and looked at him. He faced them, at bay. At that moment they were rather horrifying to him, as they stood in their short uniforms. He was distinctly afraid. “Come on, John Thomas! Come on! Choose!” said Annie. “What are you after? Open the door,” he said. “We shan’t—not till you’ve chosen!” said Muriel. “Chosen what?” he said. “Chosen the one you’re going to marry,” she replied. He hesitated a moment. “Open the blasted door,” he said, “and get back to your senses.” He spoke with official authority. “You’ve got to choose!” cried the girls. “Come on!” cried Annie, looking him in the eye.” Come on! Come on!”