Although Teddie knew of his sister’s visit to their great-uncle, the thought never entered his head that he could possibly owe this very opportune aid to that circumstance. After much silent puzzling—for he was not going to confide in Gerald on the subject—he came to the conclusion that Hazel had, probably through the medium of Miles, sold her gold bangle, and so provided her distressed brother with pecuniary assistance. Mentally dubbing her a little brick, Teddie proceeded to make his toilet for the evening, with more zest than he had pursued any other of the day’s duties. He poured a plentiful supply of water into the basin with the plain red band around its girth, from the ewer that was besprinkled with blue flowers. Removing his coat and collar, and thrusting his hands into his trousers pockets, he plunged his hot face into its cool depths, whilst with wide-open eyes he glared glassily at the bottom of the basin, some two inches from his nose, in seemingly futile wrath; then rolled them from side to side in fierce, yet vacant, contemplation of his environments, apparently much to his refreshment. He emerged blowing like a grampus, and fell to rubbing his rosy countenance vigorously with the somewhat harsh little towel of Mrs. Walters’s providing. He seemed to get an astonishing amount of satisfaction from these drastic measures, only desisting when his arms ached and his face was aglow with the friction. After belabouring his curly head severely with surprisingly stiff hair-brushes, he prized open the handleless little top drawer of the chest, which had been pushed injudiciously far in the shutting, with his pocket-knife—a broken, rusty, and blunt implement, long since dedicated to such uses—and supplied himself with a fresh collar and a change of tie. He would have liked to make a more complete toilet, for the Le Mesurier boys religiously dressed for the evening; but dressing meant a fresh shirt, and it frequently fell out that toward the end of the week clean shirts were scarce. To-day was Friday; the linen would be home to-morrow, and Teddie knew without looking that the first long drawer, boasting two knobs and devoted to the warding of his underclothing, was devoid of this particular article of wearing-apparel; for he had recklessly indulged himself this week. So, perforce content with his hardy ablutions and slight changes of attire, he descended to the little sitting-room, to find Gerald already ensconced in his easy-chair, his slippered feet duly in place against the mantelshelf, luxuriously smoking an attenuated cigarette. He, too, had regulated his toilet with skill and sagacity, in accordance with the day of the week; but, more favoured than Teddie—for Gerald was never in arrear with his half of the rent—he had used a pint milk-jug of hot water sent up from the kitchen from the landlady, by Caroline the hand-maid.