"_Emmes what?_" He knew that Truth unsupported by an invocation to the Lord was a weak buttress. "_Emmes adoshem!_" she said, her heart sinking at the perjury. But, she consoled herself, it was not as if she had sworn by the undiluted form of the oath, "_Emmes adonoi!_" from the violation of which solemnity there is no redemption. Philip saw her disappear through the doors. A black cloud of loneliness enveloped him until he could hardly breathe. The terrifying sing-song of these young celebrants at their fathomless ceremony had begun again. _Twice one are two, One and one are two! Twice two are four, Two and two are four!_ Fantastic hieroglyphs danced across the blackboard at the dictate of Miss Briggs' chalk. The heavy minutes ticked and ticked in a reiteration of monochrome and despair. _Twice one are two, One and one are two!_ What teeth she had, Miss Briggs! Not like his mother's! A little yellow his mother's were, but small and neat, as he observed whenever she smiled one of her tired and sweet smiles. What was the specific purpose of Miss Briggs' teeth? Why should those two at the top in front be so large and pointed? He had heard old Mo who sold newspapers tell tales about canninbles. Wass Miss Briggs a canninble? Oh the long, long Channahless minutes! When would she come? What? Some one was whispering behind him. "Say, kid!" Philip was afraid to turn round. What would Miss Briggs do if he turned round? And she had two such horrid teeth, at the top, in front! "Say, kid! Got anyfing?" Philip turned his head round fearfully. A villainously scowling face was bent over from the bench behind towards his own. "Aven't yer got nuffing?" Philip looked helplessly into the forbidding face. "I tell yer, kid!" the voice menaced, "if yer don't gib me anyfing, I'll spifflicate yer!" The process of spifflication sounded as terrible as it certainly was vague. Philip put his hand into his trouser-pocket where the lump of stickjaw lay warmly spreading its seductive bounties over the lining. To part with a whole lump of stickjaw from which the one due he had extracted was a single suck! But, on the other hand, spifflication! And moreover, soon, oh surely very, very soon, Channah would come back with the tiger nuts, not to mention the box of crayons. He drew the lump of sticky languor from his pocket. A grubby fist from behind closed round it. _Twice two are four, Two and two are four!_ Faithless Channah! How could the mere passing of time be such a labour? He subsided into a daze of stupefaction; only the hope of Channah's appearance buzzed and buzzed like a fly on the ear-drum. A great tear rolled slowly down his face. Another followed and another. They dropped into the bow of vermilion sateen. Suppose his mother should die in his absence? Or there might be a big, big fire! And just suppose....