CHAPTER TWENTY TWO.
HOW MY MASTER AND I WENT OUT TO BREAKFAST, AND WHOM WE MET.
Jim Halliday--now a strapping youth of nineteen--was a goodrepresentative of the "steady set" at Saint George's College. Indeed,as he was intending to become a clergyman in due time, it would havebeen a deplorable thing if this had not been the case. He worked hard,and though not a clever fellow, had already taken a good position in theexamination lists of his college. He was also an ardent superintendentat a certain ragged-school in the town conducted by University men; andwas further becoming a well-known figure in the debates at the Union--onall which accounts his friends were not a little satisfied. But on onepoint Jim and his friends did not hit it. Ever since his Randleburydays he had kept up his passion for athletic sports, and if he had nowbeen famous for nothing else at his college, he would at least have beennoted as a good bat, a famous boxer, a desperate man in a footballscrimmage, and a splendid oar. It was on this subject that Jim and hisrelations were at variance. When I speak of "relations" I refer, by theway, to a certain old-fashioned uncle and aunt in Cornwall, who sinceJim's father's death had assumed the guardianship of that youth and hisbrothers and sisters. This good uncle and aunt were horribly shockedthat one destined for so solemn a sphere in life as the ministry shouldprofane himself with athletic sports. The matter formed the theme formany serious remonstrances, and long letters addressed to the depravedJim, who, on his part, maintained his side of the argument withcharacteristic vehemence. He actually spent a whole day in the collegelibrary, making out a list of all the athletic divines in history sincethe creation of the world, the which he hurled triumphantly at his goodrelations' heads as an unanswerable challenge. But, howeversatisfactory it may have been to Jim, it failed to convince them, andneither party being disposed to give in, the feud in this particular hadbecome chronic.
All this Jim contrived to impart to George (for lack of betterconversation) in the course of a short walk previous to the breakfast inhis rooms, to which he was leading his new acquaintance a captive.
"I suppose we shall have it all opened again now," he remarked, "for youmay have seen that my name is down to play in the football-match againstSandhurst."
"I never read the athletic intelligence in the papers," said George.
"Well, my uncle and aunt do. The names were actually printed in the_Times_, and I shall be greatly surprised if I don't find a letter ortelegram when I get back to my rooms. We may as well beat to quarters,though, or the fellows will be waiting."
"You didn't tell me anyone else was to be there," said Georgereproachfully, suddenly stopping short, "I can't come!"
"Stuff and nonsense," said Jim; "they won't eat you!"
"Halliday," said George, hurriedly, "I'm much obliged to you for askingme, but I have made a rule, as I tell you, never to go out, and I'vetold you the reason."
"An utterly rubbishing reason!" put in Jim.
"I promised to come with you because I thought there would be only ustwo; but I really can't come if there are more."
"My dear fellow," said Jim good-humouredly, "anyone else would beoffended with you. Why, you're a regular bear."
"I know it's very rude of me," said George, feeling and looking veryuncomfortable, "and I don't want to be that."
"Of course you don't; so come along. Why, my dear fellow, one wouldthink my friends were all as abandoned wretches as I am, by the mannerin which you shrink from the notion of meeting them, but they aren't."
"Do let me off," put in George, in despair.
"Not a bit of it. But I tell you what, if you don't like them or me--"
"It's not that, you know, but I've no right to associ--"
"Associate with your grandmother! Come this once, and I'll never askyou again unless you like, there!"
"Who are the fellows?" asked George.
"Two of them are College men--very nice men, in my humble opinion; and,now I come to think of it, one of them, Clarke, is in against you forthe `Wigram,' but everyone says you're safe; and the third is an oldparticular school chum, who is playing in Sandhurst team against us, andwhom it is therefore my interest to incapacitate by a howlingbreakfast."
George laughed.
"I wish you'd let him eat my share as well."
"I dare say he would be equal to the occasion. Newcome was always agood trencherman."
At the name I bounded nearly out of my master's pocket. Newcome! an oldschool chum of Jim Halliday's. It must be my old master! And--yes--nowI remembered, he had spoken in one of his letters to Tom Drift of goingto Sandhurst Military College. It must be he. How I longed for mymaster to make up his mind and go to the breakfast!
"But I wouldn't have you miss seeing him," said Jim, "for I'm no endproud of him; and when you've once seen him, you'll have seen the bestfellow going. That is," added he, "present company of course excepted."
"I'm sure he's a nice man."
"Nice! Of course, and therefore fit company for you and me; so comealong, old man. I never had such hard work inviting a man to breakfastin all my life."
"I'm certain I'm ill-mannered," said George, "but I won't hold out anymore. You will--"
"Hurrah, that's settled, and here we are, too!"
With that he led the way up a staircase, on the second floor of which heopened a door, and ushered George into his rooms. No one was there yet,and there was consequently time to look about. Jim's rooms were nothingvery grand, but they were palatial compared with the "Mouse-trap."Cheerful and well-lighted, with a pleasant look-out into the oldquadrangle, comfortably furnished, further enlivened with all thoseadornments in the shape of swords, fencing-sticks, dumb-bells, etcetera,without which no model undergraduate's rooms would be complete.
George could hardly help sighing as his thoughts flew back to his owndingy cell under "H" staircase.
"Lay another plate, Smith," said Jim, addressing his "gyp"; "and now,old man, make yourself comfortable."
And then the host, in a business-like way, devoted himself to themysteries of coffee-making and egg-boiling, in the midst of whichoccupation Clarke and the other Saint George's man arrived.
George felt very miserable on being introduced and devoutly hoped thefellows would have sufficient to converse about among themselves,without it being needful for him to come under observation. Thisreserve, however, he was not destined to maintain for very long.
"Halliday," said Clarke, "were you in chapel this morning?"
"Yes."
"Well, did you ever hear the organ so grandly played?"
George blushed deeply, half with pleasure at this genuine compliment,and half with nervousness at the turn the talk was taking.
"And it wasn't the regular organist," said Clarke's friend, "for I saw_him_ downstairs."
"No, it's some fellow--plough-boy or stable-boy; or somebody he's gothold of, so I heard. Whoever he is, he knows how to play."
At this point Jim was as red in the face as George, and equallyembarrassed.
"Is the fellow at college, do you know?" asked Clarke's friend.
"I believe so, in fact--"
"In fact," broke out Jim, in fear of further awkwardness, "in fact thegentleman you are speaking of is my friend here."
If Clarke and his friend had suddenly been confronted by a tribe of wildIndians they could not have been more taken aback than they were at thisannouncement. In fact, it was an awkward moment for everybody. Nobodyknew exactly what to say, or which way to look. But a welcomeinterruption arrived.
My heart beat suddenly as I heard at the bottom of the stairs a sound.Some one was coming up two steps at a time. Nearer and nearer the lightfeet came, and my agitation told me whom they brought.
There was a rap at the door, a click on the latch, and then, after allthese years, I saw once more my dear first master, Charlie Newcome.Little he guessed I was so near him!
He had spent the previous day with Jim, and was therefore no stranger inhis rooms; indeed, from the moment he
entered them, he appeared as muchat home there as their own master. He greeted the visitors pleasantly,and then, in the old Randlebury style, demanded if breakfast wasanywhere near ready, as he was starving.
He had the beginnings of a fierce moustache, he stood six feet high inhis boots, and there was a look of power about him which exceeded eventhe promise of his Randlebury days. Otherwise he was the same. He hadthe same clear, honest eyes, the same frank smile, the same merry laugh,for which everyone had loved him then; and as I looked at him andrejoiced, I felt I would give the world to be back in my old place inhis pocket.
Jim, as he himself had said, was proud enough of his friend, and nowonder. His arrival, too, at the instant when it occurred, was mostopportune, and made him a specially welcome addition to our party,which, including my master, was very soon on the best of terms round thehospitable Jim's table.
"It's not often," said that worthy, "one gets two pairs of deadlyenemies eating out of the same dish."
"What's the fellow talking about?" asked Charlie, passing up his platefor more steak.
"Well," said Jim, "you and I are, or shall be, deadly enemies to-day,old man."
"Rather," responded Charlie; "so much the worse for you. But where'sthe other pair?"
"Why, Clarke and Reader."
"I?" exclaimed Clarke, in an alarmed tone. "I hope Mr Reader and I arenot at enmity?"
"Oh, yes, you are; don't you know Reader's the fellow in against you forthe `Wigram'?" said Jim.
Clarke was astonished. He had been told there was another candidate forthe scholarship, who in some quarters was considered a formidableopponent, but he had never fairly realised the fact till now.
"I'm very glad to meet you," said he, courteously, to George, "though Ican hardly wish you as much success in your exam, as I dare say you wishyourself."
"I hope I shall not break my heart if I lose," replied George. "Are wethe only two in for it?"
And then they fell to talking about their approaching struggle, duringwhich I gave heed to a hurried talk between Charlie and Jim.
"Do you remember Tom Drift?" asked Jim.
Charlie's face at once became serious as he replied, "How could I forgethim? What about him?"
"Why," said Jim, "I had a letter from my brother Joe the other day, andhe says Tom has altogether gone to the bad. He met him drunk coming outof some slum in Holborn, and followed him for a long time in hopes ofbeing able to speak to him, but the fellow couldn't, or wouldn'trecognise him, and only swore. He is living at some disreputablelodging-house--"
"Where?" exclaimed Charlie, excitedly.
"I don't know. Why! what's the matter?"
"Can you find out his address?" asked Charlie.
"I dare say. Why do you want it?"
"Because I must go and see him. Could you find out to-day by telegram?"
"I'll try." Presently he added, "I could never make out why you stuckto the fellow as you did, old man, especially when he turned againstyou. You're a better man than ever I shall be."
"Nonsense! I promised once to be his friend, that's all. Do send thetelegram soon. And now tell me who's the pale man talking to Clarke?"
"A fellow called Reader--one of the cleverest men we've got."
"He looks half-starved!"
"Yes; I'm afraid he's--I mean, I don't think he takes proper care ofhimself."
"Pity," said Charlie. "I say, old man, this is rare steak! Give us abit more. What time does the match begin?"
"At two. You old beggar! see if I don't pay off some old scores beforethe day's over."
"I thought you told me once your people didn't fancy your going in forathletics?"
"No more they do. I expect a stinger by this post; but I shall not openit till after the match. What matches we used to have at Randlebury!"
"Didn't we!"
"And do you remember what an ass you used to make of yourself over thatprecious silver watch of yours?"
It did one good to hear the laugh with which Charlie greeted thisreminder.
"I'd give my repeater, and a ten-pound note besides, to get back thatold watch," said he. (If he had but known!) "But there's no knowingwhere it is now; poor Tom Drift must have parted with it years ago."
With such talk the meal proceeded, and presently the conversation grewmore general, and branched out on to all sorts of topics. George,having got over the first strangeness of finding himself in society,found it not so bad after all; and, indeed, he very soon amazed himselfby the amount he talked. It was a new world to him, the hermit of the"Mouse-trap," to find himself exchanging ideas with men of his ownintellectual standing; and he certainly forgave Jim his persistency incompelling his company this morning. He forgot the patches in hisclothes among such gentlemen as Clarke and Charlie, and for the firsttime in his life felt himself superior to his natural diffidence andreserve. Who could help being at his ease where Charlie was? He keptup a running fire of chaff at his old schoolfellow, for whichoccasionally the others came in; and if it be true that laughter is agood digestive, Jim Halliday's breakfast that morning must have agreedwith the five who partook of it.
"Who's this coming?" suddenly exclaimed the latter, as there came asound of footsteps slowly ascending the stairs.
"Two of them!" said Charlie. "Perhaps it's your tailor and your hatterwith their little bills."
"Whoever it is, they're blowing hard," said Clarke.
"They don't enjoy my `Gradus at Parnassum,'" said Jim. "Come in, all ofyou!" he shouted.
The door opened slowly, and there appeared to the astonished eyes of Jimand his party a grave middle-aged gentleman and still more grave andmiddle-aged lady.
"Oh, my prophetic soul! my uncle and aunt!" groaned Jim.