"Oh, please don't ask me," I said, only "promise--do, Hawkesbury."
Hawkesbury smiled most sweetly.
"Really," he said, "one would think it was such a nice subject that a
fellow would like to talk about it!"
"Then you won't!" I cried, ready to jump at the least encouragement;
"oh, thanks, Hawkesbury!"
This was the only comfort I could get. Crow laughed at me when I
appealed to him; and the other fellows reminded me that as they had not
the pleasure of knowing my pet gaol-bird they were afraid they couldn't
tell him what I had done, much as they would like.
Flanagan alone treated it seriously.
"Batchelor," said he, "I never believed you were such a fool. Can't you
see you're only making things worse by your fuss? Why can't you hold
your tongue? Smith has little enough to thank you for as it is."
He had indeed! As I walked home that evening, I felt as if I would
never dare to look him in the face again.
It was late when I reached Beadle Square. Jack had returned before me,
and was fast asleep in bed. A candle burned beside him, and on the
counterpane, as if dropped from his hand, lay a book--a Roman History.
I groaned as I looked at him, and envied him his quiet sleep, the reward
of honest work and a good conscience. I crept into bed that night as
silently as I could, for fear of waking him.
The next few days I was on thorns. I dreaded to be alone with Jack, and
still more dreaded to be by when the fellows were--now an ordinary
pastime--chaffing him at the office. It was like living on a volcano
which might at any moment explode. However, the days went on, and my
fears did not come to pass. The fellows had either forgotten all about
it, or, more likely, their sense of honour prevented them from making it
known. I was devoutly thankful, of course, and by every means in my
power endeavoured to show it. I made myself as agreeable as possible to
my comrades, and bore all their chaff and persecution with the utmost
good-humour, and went out of my way to secure and retain their good
graces.
Of course I could not do this without in a way defying Jack's influence.
Though he had never once taken me to task in so many words, I knew well
enough he considered I was wasting my time and money in this perpetual
round of festivities. But I had to take the risk of that. After all, I
was playing to shield him. If he only knew all, he would be grateful to
me, I reflected, rather than offended.
He could not help noticing my altered manner, and of course put it down
to anything but its true cause. He thought I was offended with him for
not encouraging my extravagances, and that the great intimacy with
Doubleday and Hawkesbury and Crow was meant to show him that I was
independent of him.
However, he made one brave effort to pull me up.
"Fred," said he, thoughtfully, one evening, as we walked home--"Fred,
what are you going to do about your debts?"
"Oh, pay them some day, I suppose," I said, shortly.
"When will that be?" he continued, quietly, not noticing my manner.
"I really can't say," I replied, not liking to be thus questioned.
"Do you know how much you owe?" he asked.
"Really, Jack, you take a great interest in my debts!"
"I do," he replied, solemnly, and with the air of a fellow who had made
up his mind to go through with an unpleasant duty.
"Well," I said, warming up rather, "I fancy I can look after them quite
as well by myself."
"I'm afraid I am offending you," said Jack, looking straight at me, "but
I don't think you do look after them properly."
"What do you mean?" I demanded.
"I mean," said Jack, with his arm still in mine, "that you are head over
ears in debt, and that, instead of paying off, you are spending your
money in other ways. And I don't think it's right, Fred."
"Upon my word, Jack," I said, "it's quite new for you to lecture me like
this, and I don't like it. What business is it of yours, I should like
to know?"
"You are my friend," he said, quietly.