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‘That’s me!’ said John Thomas. It was one of his favourite exclamations.

‘Shut the door, boy,’ said Muriel Baggaley.

‘On which side of me?’ said John Thomas.

‘Which tha likes,’ said Polly Birkin.

He had come in and closed the door behind him. The girls moved in their circle, to make a place for him near the fire. He took off his great-coat and pushed back his hat.

‘Who handles the teapot?’ he said.

Nora Purdy silently poured him out a cup of tea.

‘Want a bit o’ my bread and drippin’?’ said Muriel Baggaley to him.

‘Ay, give us a bit.’

And he began to eat his piece of bread.

‘There’s no place like home, girls,’ he said.

They all looked at him as he uttered this piece of impudence. He seemed to be sunning himself in the presence of so many damsels.

‘Especially if you’re not afraid to go home in the dark,’ said Laura Sharp.

‘Me! By myself I am.’

They sat till they heard the last tram come in. In a few minutes Emma Houselay entered.

‘Come on, my old duck!’ cried Polly Birkin.

‘It is perishing,’ said Emma, holding her fingers to the fire.

‘But–I’m afraid to, go home in, the dark,’ sang Laura Sharp, the tune having got into her mind.

‘Who’re you going with tonight, John Thomas?’ asked Muriel Baggaley, coolly.

‘Tonight?’ said John Thomas. ‘Oh, I’m going home by myself tonight–all on my lonely-O.’

‘That’s me!’ said Nora Purdy, using his own ejaculation.

The girls laughed shrilly.

‘Me as well, Nora,’ said John Thomas.

‘Don’t know what you mean,’ said Laura.

‘Yes, I’m toddling,’ said he, rising and reaching for his overcoat.

‘Nay,’ said Polly. ‘We’re all here waiting for you.’

‘We’ve got to be up in good time in the morning,’ he said, in the benevolent official manner.

They all laughed.

‘Nay,’ said Muriel. ‘Don’t leave us all lonely, John Thomas. Take one!’

‘I’ll take the lot, if you like,’ he responded gallantly.

‘That you won’t either,’ said Muriel, ‘Two’s company; seven’s too much of a good thing.’

‘Nay–take one,’ said Laura. ‘Fair and square, all above board, and say which.’

‘Ay,’ cried Annie, speaking for the first time. ‘Pick, John Thomas; let’s hear thee.’

‘Nay,’ he said. ‘I’m going home quiet tonight. Feeling good, for once.’

‘Whereabouts?’ said Annie. ‘Take a good ‘un, then. But tha’s got to take one of us!’

‘Nay, how can I take one,’ he said, laughing uneasily. ‘I don’t want to make enemies.’

‘You’d only make one‘ said Annie.

‘The chosen one,’ added Laura.

‘Oh, my! Who said girls!’ exclaimed John Thomas, again turning, as if to escape. ‘Well–good-night.’

‘Nay, you’ve got to make your pick,’ said Muriel. ‘Turn your face to the wall, and say which one touches you. Go on–we shall only just touch your back–one of us. Go on–turn your face to the wall, and don’t look, and say which one touches you.’

He was uneasy, mistrusting them. Yet he had not the courage to break away. They pushed him to a wall and stood him there with his face to it. Behind his back they all grimaced, tittering. He looked so comical. He looked around uneasily.

‘Go on!’ he cried.

‘You’re looking–you’re looking!’ they shouted.

He turned his head away. And suddenly, with a movement like a swift cat, Annie went forward and fetched him a box on the side of the head that sent his cap flying and himself staggering. He started round.

But at Annie’s signal they all flew at him, slapping him, pinching him, pulling his hair, though more in fun than in spite or anger. He, however, saw red. His blue eyes flamed with strange fear as well as fury, and he butted through the girls to the door. It was locked. He wrenched at it. Roused, alert, the girls stood round and looked at him. He faced them, at bay. At that moment they were rather horrifying to him, as they stood in their short uniforms. He was distinctly afraid.

‘Come on, John Thomas! Come on! Choose!’ said Annie.

‘What are you after? Open the door,’ he said.

‘We shan’t–not till you’ve chosen!’ said Muriel.