"Oh," said Dora, "I’m so sorry! I suppose I ought to be angry with you, but I don’t see how I can be when you--you like me so much." Jim looked up at the sky with a mist in his eyes. They walked on, and all too soon came round to No. 9 again. "Oh, if you please, give me my net," said Dora, for all this time her purchases had been dangling from Jim’s left hand. She had forgotten all about them, and Jim had been quite unconscious of his burden. "Then," said Jim, as they stopped in the shadow thrown by the porch, "you forgive me?" "Yes, yes, entirely--on condition you never say anything like that again. And now give me my net." "Here is the net," said Jim, "and here," as he kissed her, "is something else." "Oh, how dare you!" cried Dora, snatching at her net and running up the steps with cheeks of scarlet. As for Jim, he diplomatically continued his walk round the crescent. *CHAPTER XVIII.* *MASTER HARRIS IS SHOWN OUT.* One evening, a week or two later, Koko was sitting with his short legs propped up over the Long ’Un’s surgery fire. During a pause in the conversation he observed Jim fumbling in his inner coat pocket. "Twenty-five," said Jim, at length, handing his friend that amount in bank-notes; "half what I owe you." "Don’t bother about that yet," said Koko, tossing them back. "If you don’t take them," said Jim, in a ferocious tone, "I’ll make you eat them." "Try it on, you bully!" returned Koko, springing up. Jim therefore squeezed the notes up into a round, tight ball, and advanced upon the little man. "Be careful, my son," said Koko; "if I hit you, it’ll hurt." For answer Jim leapt forward like a bloodhound, seized Koko by his coat-collar, and threw him on to the floor. Koko, however, nimble as a kitten, wriggled through Jim’s legs, overturning the Long ’Un in so doing, and with a dexterous movement seated himself astride Jim’s chest. Jim puffed and fumed, and tried every trick he could think of to throw off his assailant. But Koko was not easily beaten. A rough-and-tumble with Mortimer was nothing new to him. For some time he resisted Jim’s efforts to dislodge him, and Jim was getting redder in the face every moment. "Make me eat ’em, will he!" cried Koko, exultingly, addressing Tom, the big cat, who still often followed Jim to the surgery, and was now watching the struggle with grave impartiality. "Not a long lamp-post like this, without enough fat on him to grease a cart-wheel!" Now, it’s an old sporting saying that a good big ’un is better than a good little ’un--it holds in boxing, wrestling, and many other forms of athletics. Koko was a good little ’un, but Jim was a good big ’un, and, though not of great girth, was immensely strong in the arms and back.