It was clear at once to Ealing that Reggie’s method was altogether at fault, and he rough-hewed the pencil again so as to be able to set to work properly. Then the clock on the mantelpiece, which had been set going, after the alarum became derelict, struck eleven and Reggie returned from his bedroom. “Of course that clock is fast,” said Ealing. “It’s ten minutes slow. Why should you think it was fast?” “We must have been working longer than I thought. We had breakfast at half-past eight and we began working almost immediately after, didn’t we?” “Yes. We knocked up a bit in the arch, you know.” “Only about ten minutes. I should say we had set to work well before ten.” “Perhaps we did,” said Reggie, “but I haven’t got through much yet. How’s the pencil getting on?” “Oh, pretty well: but you went the wrong way about it at first!” “There won’t be much left to write with, will there?” asked Reggie, looking at it doubtfully. “It will last you for weeks with proper care,” said Ealing. “I think I never saw so blunt a knife. Why haven’t you got a proper knife?” Reggie got up from the table, and strolled across to the window, and looked out. “Be quick, old chap,” he said. “I can’t go on till it’s ready. I’m in the middle of underlining something.” He saw an acquaintance below, and called to him. “The work club’s started this morning,” he shouted. “We’re getting on beautifully.” (Confused sound from below, inaudible to Ealing.) “Yes, he’s just sharpening my pencil. Isn’t it kind of him? He says he’s getting on with it pretty well.” (Murmur.) “No, not very far, but I’m in the middle of a chorus, and I’m reading Jebb’s notes and marking them.” (Murmur.) “Oh, hours; ever since about half-past nine or so.” (Murmur.) “What?” (Murmur.) “Yes, Jebb’s not literal enough for me. I like to get at the real meaning of---- Oh!” The sofa cushion flew out of the window and lay on the grass below. When Reggie turned round Ealing was absorbed in his book. “Where’s the pencil?” asked Reggie. “There isn’t any,” said Ealing. “Well, I must go and pick that cushion up. What a lot of time you’ve made me waste. Also go to Severs’s and buy a new pencil. I can’t work without.” “This is all the thanks I get,” said Ealing bitterly. “No, I’m awfully obliged to you, but it hasn’t done me much good, you know. You see you acted with the best intention, which is always fatal. Where’s my cap?” “I should think you could borrow a pencil,” said Ealing. Reggie considered a moment, with his head on one side. “I think not. It would be better to get one of my own. Then I shall have one, you see. Come with me?”