"Now then, where's that money of yours?"
His temper was not improved by the want of confidence his friends had shown, and this was not a case in which he thought delicacy was required.
"What money? Bertie, don't! you're hurting my arm!"
"Yes, and I'll hurt it, too! Where's that money of yours? I know you've got some."
"I've only got one and fivepence. Mamma sent it me last week to buy a birthday present. It was my birthday, you know."
"Oh, was it! Then I'll buy you a birthday present--something spiffing. Fork it up!"
"But, Bertie----"
"Fork it up!"
"It's in my desk."
"Then just you let me see your desk. It's never safe to leave money in your desk; it might get stolen."