"What a nice play-ground this is!" said Louis. "Capital!" said Reginald. "What's the fun, Frank?" he cried to his cousin, who bounded past him at this moment, towards a spot already tolerably crowded. "Maister Dunn," shouted Frank. "Oh, the old cake-man, Louis," said Reginald; "I must go and get rid of a few surplus pence." "Do you like to spend your money in cakes?" asked Louis; "I have plenty, Mrs. Colthrop took care of that." "In that case I'll save for next time," said Reginald, "but let's go and see what's going on." Accordingly Reginald ran off in the cake-man's direction. Louis followed, and presently found himself standing in the outer circle of a group of his school-fellows, who formed a thick wall round a white-haired old man and a boy, both of whom carried a basket on each arm, filled with dainties always acceptable to a school-boy's palate. [Illustration: Maister Dunn.] Were I inclined to moralize, I might here make a few remarks on waste of money, &c., but my business being merely to relate incidents at present, I shall only say that there they stood, the old man and his assistant, with the boys in constant motion and murmur around them. Frank Digby and Hamilton were in the outer circle, the latter having _walked_ from a direction opposite to that from which Frank and Reginald came, but whose dignity did not prevent a certain desire to purchase if he saw fit, and if not, to amuse himself with those who did so. He stood watching the old man with an imperturbable air of gravity, and, hanging on his arm in a state of listless apathy, stood Trevannion, another member of the first class. Frank Digby took too active a share in most things in the establishment to remain a passive spectator of the actions of others, and began pushing right and left. "Get along, get away ye vagabonds!" he politely cried: "you little shrimps! what business have you to stop the way?--Alfred, you ignoramus! Alfred, why don't you move?" "Because I'm buying something," said the little boy addressed, looking up very quietly at the imperious intruder. "_Da locum melioribus_, Alfred, as the poet has it. Do you know where to find that, my boy?--the first line of the thirteenth book of the Aeneid, being a speech of the son of Anchises to the Queen of Carthage. You'll find a copy of Virgil's works in my desk." "I don't mean to look," said Alfred, "I know it's in the Delectus." "Wonderful memory!--I admire that delectable book of yours," cried Frank, who talked on without stopping, while forcing himself to the first rank. "How now, Maister Dunn!" he said, addressing the old man, "I hope you b'aint a going to treat us as e did last time. You must be reasonable; the money market is in a sadly unflourishing condition at present." "You always talk of the _money market_, Frank," said little Alfred: "what do you mean by the money market?"