“I’ll tell you what will do best of all!” cried Queen Bee. “You go to Dame Reid’s, and buy us sixpennyworth of the gingerbread papa calls the extreme of luxury, and we will eat it on the old men’s bench in the porch.” “Oho! her Majesty is descending to creature comforts,” said Alex. “I thought she would soon come down to other mortals.” “Only to gratify her famishing subjects,” said Beatrice, “you disloyal vassal, you! Fred is worth a dozen of you. Come, make haste. She is sure to have a fresh stock, for she always has a great baking when Mr. Geoffrey is coming.” “For his private eating?” said Fred. “He likes it pretty well, certainly; and he seldom goes through the village without making considerable purchase for the benefit of the children in his path, who take care to be not a few. I found little Jenny Woods made small distinction between Mr. Geoffrey and Mr. Ginger. But come, Alex, why are you not off?” “Because I don’t happen to have a sixpence,” said Alex, with an honest openness, overcoming his desire to add “in my pocket.” It cost him an effort; for at school, where each slight advantage was noted, and comparisons perpetually made, Fred’s superior wealth and larger allowance had secured him the adherence of some; and though he either knew it not, or despised such mammon worship, his rival was sufficiently awake to it to be uncomfortable in acknowledging his poverty. “Every one is poor at the end of the half,” said Fred, tossing up his purse and catching it again, so as to demonstrate its lightness. “Here is a sixpence, though, at her Majesty’s service.” “And do you think she would take your last sixpence, you honour to loyalty?” said Beatrice, feeling in her pocket. “We are not fallen quite so low. But alas! the royal exchequer is, as I now remember, locked up in my desk at home.” “And my purse is in my workbox,” said Henrietta. “So, Fred, I must be beholden to you for the present,” said Beatrice, “if it won’t quite break you down.” “There are more where that came from,” said Fred, with a careless air. “Come along, Alex.” Away they went. “That is unlucky,” soliloquised Queen Bee: “if I could have sent Alex alone, it would have been all right, and he would have come back again; but now one will carry away the other, and we shall see them no more.” “No, no, that would be rather too bad,” said Henrietta. “I am sure Fred will behave better.” “Mark what I say,” said Beatrice. “I know how it will be; a dog or a gun is what a boy cannot for a moment withstand, and if we see them again ‘twill be a nine days’ wonder. But come, we must to the work; I want to look at your wreath.”