but I'd rather do a swop with you than see you spoil your study, Tiger."
"Very well," said Jan, doubtfully.
Shockley promptly tucked the new table-cloth under his arm. "Let's see your tolly-sticks!" said he, briskly.
"Tolly-sticks?"
"Candle-sticks, you fool!"
Jan unpacked them, noting as he did so that the fatherly tone had been dropped.
"I suppose you wouldn't like a real old valuable pair instead of these beastly things?"
"No, thanks, Shockley."
"Well, anyhow you must have a picture or two."
"Why must I?" asked Jan. He had suddenly remembered Carpenter's story of the seven-and-sixpenny chair.
"Because I've got the very pair for you, and going cheap."
"I see," said Jan, in his dryest Yorkshire voice.
"Oh, I don't care whether you've a study or a sty!" cried Shockley, and away he went glaring, but with the new cloth under his arm. In a minute he was back with the green one rolled into a ball, which he flung in Jan's face. "There you are, you fool, and I'm glad you like your own colour!" he jeered as he slammed the door behind him.
Neither had Jan much mercy on himself, when he had fitted two candles into the two new china sticks, and lit them with a wax match from the shilling box included in his supplies. Shockley's table-cloth might once have been green, but long service had reduced it to a more dubious hue; it was spotted with ink and candle-grease, and in one place cut through with a knife. To Jan, indeed, one table-cloth was like another; he was
