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“You’ve got about everything there is up here, haven’t you?” he exclaimed. “Is that a wireless set? How’s it work? I never saw one near-to.”

The instruments were duly explained, not over-enthusiastically, since Jack had lost interest in wireless telegraphy after a year of devotion, and then Joe made a tour of the room, examining and questioning and enjoying himself hugely. Later various scrap-books and stamp-books were pulled from under the window-seat and looked over, and finally, having still only partly exhausted the wonders, the two boys settled down amongst the cushions and talked. That afternoon sped like magic. Almost before they realised it the room was in twilight and from across town came the hoarse sound of the five o’clock whistle at the carpet mills. Whereupon Joe said he must go, and Jack, remonstrating, led him downstairs, helped him on with his coat, and accompanied him to the steps. There:

“What are you doing tonight?” he asked very carelessly.

“Nothing special,” replied Joe quite as disinterestedly.