Sitting in front of this picture, and staring gloomily at
it, as being the only thing which he could stare at, was a small sallow-
faced boy with a large head, who in the intervals of his art studies
munched sedately at an apple.
"Is Mr. Smith or Mr. Hanbury in?" asked the Admiral.
"There ain't no such people," said the small boy.
"But you have the names on the door."
"Ah, that is the name of the firm, you see. It's only a name. It's Mr.
Reuben Metaxa that you wants."
"Well then, is he in?"
"No, he's not."
"When will he be back?"
"Can't tell, I'm sure. He's gone to lunch. Sometimes he takes one hour,
and sometimes two. It'll be two to-day, I 'spect, for he said he was
hungry afore he went."
"Then I suppose that we had better call again," said the Admiral.
"Not a bit," cried Charles. "I know how to manage these little imps.
See here, you young varmint, here's a shilling for you. Run off and
fetch your master. If you don't bring him here in five minutes I'll
clump you on the side of the head when you get back. Shoo! Scat!" He
charged at the youth, who bolted from the room and clattered madly down-
stairs.
"He'll fetch him," said Charles. "Let us make ourselves at home.
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