"And what's that about the cigars?" said Arthur furiously. "You stole my case." "I only took it for a bit of fun," said Dick humbly. "I did not think father would have noticed it. You see he thinks it is me who smokes." "And a good job too! Serve you right for stealing my case." "But you might have spoken up and said it was yours," said Dick. "I daresay I should," said Arthur, loftily, "if you had behaved fairly; but now--" "I say, boys," cried Mr Temple, "I shall not wait." "Here, you go and slip on my flannels," said Dick. "I'll go and buy you a hat. If it fits me it will fit you." "Get a black-and-white straw," said Arthur. "I won't wear a white. Such absurd nonsense of papa!" "Not to let you go boating in a chimney-pot!" said Dick, half to himself, as he hurried off. "What a rum fellow Taff is!" Unfortunately for the particular young gentleman there were no black-and-white hats, so Dick bought a coarse white straw with black ribbon round it, and then seized the opportunity--as they sold everything at the little shop, from treacle to thread, and from bacon and big boots to hardware and hats--to buy some fishing-hooks and string, finding fault with the hooks as being soft and coarse, but the man assured him that they were the very best for the sea, so he was content. "See what a disgusting fit these things are!" cried Arthur, as his brother entered. "Yes; you do look an old guy, Taff," cried Dick maliciously. "Ha! ha! ha! why, they've shrunk with being dried. Here, let's pull the legs down. You've put your legs through too far." "There! Now what did I tell you?" cried Arthur, angrily. "Look at that now. I distinctly told you to bring a black-and-white straw; I can't wear a thing like that." "But they had no black and whites," said Dick. "Stuff and nonsense!" cried Arthur; "they've plenty, and you didn't remember." "Now, are you ready?" said Mr Temple. "Yes, papa; but look here," began Arthur in a depressing voice. "I was looking," said Mr Temple; "I congratulate you upon looking so comfortable and at your ease. Now you can fish, or climb, or do anything. Mind you write home to-night for some things to be sent down. Come away." Mr Temple went out of the room, and Dick executed a sort of triumphant war-dance round his brother, who frowned pityingly and stalked to the corner of the room, with his nose in the air, to take up his tasselled, silver-mounted cane. "No, you don't," said Dick, snatching the cane away and putting it back in the corner. "No canes to-day, Dandy Taff, and no gloves. Come along." He caught his brother's arm, thrust his own through, and half dragged, half thrust him out of the place to where his father was waiting. "Never mind your gloves, Arthur," said the latter dryly, "or if you particularly wish to keep your hands white, perhaps you had better take care of your face as well, and borrow a parasol."