“Oh, you, Vokins,” answered Jukes, “I haven’t recovered propria quæ maribus, yet.”
“Very well, my interesting young friend. Suppose now we change the subject and try arithmetic.”
“I don’t want any arithmetic,” said Jamie, sulkily.
“No—come—now we won’t call it by that name; suppose some one were to give you a shilling.”
Jamie looked up interested.
“And suppose he were to say. There—go and buy sweeties with this shilling. Tartlets at three for two pence, and barley-sugar at three farthings a stick, and——”
“I want my shilling back,” said Jamie, looking straight into the face of Mr. Scantlebray, senior.
“And that there were burnt almonds at two pence an ounce.”
“I want my shilling,” exclaimed the boy, angrily.
“Your shilling, puff! puff!” said the red-headed man. “This is ideal, an ideal shilling, and ideal jam-tarts, almond rock, burnt almonds or what you like.”