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“What will daddy say when he can’t find you?” I said, trying to get him to look at things seriously.

“Daddy will say, `Who’s been sitting in my chair, and broken the bottom out?'” said he, still harping on those blessed bears. I gave him up after that, and let him jaw on.

When we got to the hotel I was in another fix. The chap in charge said he’d got instructions about one young gentleman, but not two.

“Oh, I’m looking after this boy,” said I, “till tomorrow: I’ll have him in my room.”

The chap looked as if he didn’t like it. And, of course, just when he was thinking it over, the young cad must go and cheek him.

“What makes that ugly man so red on his nose?” he asks at the top of his voice, for every one to hear.

The chap was no end riled at that, and looked as if he’d kick us out. When he’d cooled down he said–

“You wait here; I’ll attend to you presently.”

That was a nice go! If I had had tin enough I should have gone somewhere else; but I’d only got enough for the journey to-morrow, and so thought I’d better hang on here, where the governor had arranged.

The lid went on anyhow while we were waiting in the hall. He ran and stood in front of people, and he pulled waiters’ coat-tails, and got mixed up with the luggage, and called out to me to know where the ugly red-nosed man had gone. At last I had to pull him in.

“Look here, kid!” said I; “if you don’t hold your jaw and sit here quietly, I’ll give you to a policeman.”

“Tell me about the bears, then.”

Oh, how I loathed those bears! Think of me, captain of my eleven, in that rackety hall, with people coming and going, and a row enough to deafen you, telling a kid about The Three Bears! You may grin, Jossy; but I was reduced to it.

After a time the hotel chap came and said we were to have a double- bedded room, and he should charge half-extra for the kid, and if we wanted dinner we’d better look sharp, as it was just beginning.

So we went up and washed–at least I had to wash the kid’s sticky hands and face for him–and then came down to table d’hote. I was in a regular funk lest any of our fellows, or any one I knew, should see me. We got squeezed in between a lady in grand evening dress, and a professor chap with blue spectacles; and as they were both attending to their neighbours, I hoped we might scrape through without a scene.

You should have seen that kid tuck in! I mildly suggested that he’d better not have any mock-turtle soup; but he began to get up steam for a bowl and a half, so I gave it up.

He said it was ugly stuff, but for all that he polished off a plate of it, and then walked into salmon. After that he had a turn at roast pork and apple sauce, and after that a cabinet pudding and some Gorgonzola cheese. He was very anxious to have some beer, like the professor, or some wine, like the lady; but I put my foot down there, and let him have lemonade instead. You should have seen people stare at him! The professor glared as if he was a rum animal.

“Your brother?” said he.

“Not exactly,” said I.

“Uncommon appetite. Would you mind telling me in the morning what sort of night he had? I shall be curious to know.”

The lady glared too, chiefly because the kid had sprinkled her silk dress with melted butter, and pork gravy and lemonade. He caught her eye once, and said out loud to her–

“Our cat’s called Flossy; what’s your cat called?”