Myn — A novel by S. R. Crockett, concerned with stamp-collecting.
Myn written for serialisation in a Stanley Gibbons magazine.
This was a good while ago, you know, before many people made collections of stamps. The boy who collected crests or hair-oil bottle capsules was thought just as much of a scientist as Phillips.
But now I must tell you who we are, Myn and I. We called ourselves so, because— well, I won’t tell you that just yet, but it wasn’t because we couldn’t speak grammatically. For Myn took the first prize in Grammar in the Sixth at Old Currycomb’s, which would have been mine if I hadn’t let her. I got second, though.
You see, our High School was one of the nice new patent sort, where both boys and girls, over fourteen, go to the same school and have the same lessons. Of course, we had different playgrounds, the boys and the girls. And we sat, one lot on one side of the schoolroom and t’other lot at the other, with the master’s desk bang in the middle. A fat lot of good that did.
We communicated with paper pellets or darts, winged V-shaped. And when old Currycomb’s back was turned, my ! it was like a nice snow-storm— pretty thick, I bet you. Once the Inspector poked in his nose and he got it—warm. So did we—next day.