"Oh," said Masham, eyeing me all over, as he lit a cigar, and then held
out his cigar-case to me. "What do you smoke, Batchelor?"
"I don't smoke, thank you," said I.
"Have you given it up, then?" said Hawkesbury. "You used to smoke at
Doubleday's parties."
"Ah! I thought he looked like a chap that smoked," said Masham, holding
out his case again. "Don't be modest, Batchelor. We're all friends
here."
I didn't like the style of this Masham. Indeed, I was a trifle afraid
of him already, and half repented coming.
"I gave up smoking some weeks ago," said I, determined not to give in if
I could help. "I found I couldn't afford it."
"The very reason you should take a cigar now when you've a chance of
getting one for nothing," replied Masham, digging me pleasantly in the
ribs.
"Thanks, I'd rather not, if you'll excuse me," I replied again.
"Can't excuse you, my dear fellow. We're all bound to be sociable to-
day. At least, so I fancy."
"Come, Batchelor," said Hawkesbury. "We may as well humour him. I'd
advise you to take a cigar. I'll take one, too, to keep you company,
though I hate them. They always make me feel sick."
So saying, he took a cigar and lit it. I felt bound to do the same, not
only to relieve myself of Masham's importunity, but to avoid disturbing
the harmony of our party at the very beginning of the day.
At this moment Whipcord arrived on the scene, as stylish as ever, with
his hat all on one side of his head and his straw all on one side of his
mouth.
"What cheer, my venerable chums?" he cried, as he approached. "Ah!
Masham. You turned up again! I thought we'd lost--"
"That'll do," said Masham, with a significant jerk of his head towards
me. "Have a weed?"
"Thanks, we'll see about that later on. I'm off my smoke just now. Ah!
young Batchelor, you there? Brought your boxing-gloves with you, I
hope? Hot fellow with the gloves is Batchelor, Phil. Well, where's
your trap, Hawkesbury?"
"There it is coming out."
Whipcord eyed it professionally and critically. He liked the dogcart,
but didn't think much of the horse.
"Do all right for a water-cart, I dare say," observed he, "or cat's
meat. But I don't see how we're to get to Windsor and back with such a
rheumatic old screw."
"You're out there, mister," said the ostler, who was harnessing the
animal. "You'll find he ain't such a screw as you think. You'll need
to keep a steady hand on him all the way, pertikler on the road home, or
he'll screw you a way you don't fancy."
Whipcord laughed.
"I'll do my best," he said. "He does look a sort of beast to be nervous
of, certainly."
The ostler grinned cynically, and we meanwhile mounted to our seats,
Hawkesbury and Whipcord being in front, and I, much to my disgust, being
placed beside Masham on the back seat.
Despite Whipcord's desponding prophecies, our charger stepped out at a
pretty fair pace, and in due time we began to shake off the dust of
London from our wheels and meet the first traces of country.
For a considerable time my companion absorbed himself in his cigar--much
to my satisfaction--and I, for fear of appearing anxious for
conversation, betook myself to mine.
At length, however, after about half an hour thus occupied, Masham broke
the silence.
"Know Hawkesbury well?" he asked.
"Pretty well," I answered; "we were at school together first, and now
we're in the same office."
"Nice boy at school?"
"Yes; I think so."
"Not quite sure, eh?"
"I always got on well with him."
"Yes, you would. Sort of a nest for bad eggs, that school, wasn't it?"
"Yes--that is, a good many of the boys were a bad sort," said I, not
very comfortable to be undergoing this cross-examination.
"I understand. You weren't, of course, eh?" said he, digging me in the
ribs with his knuckles.
His manner was most offensive. I felt strongly inclined to resent it,
and yet somehow I felt that to be civil to him would be the less of two
evils.
"Hawkesbury doing well at the office, eh?"
"Certainly!" said I. "Why not?"
"See no reason at all. Worthy chap, Hawkesbury. Nice boy at home;
great comfort to the old people."
"Really," said I, "you know him much better than I do."
"Ah! should get to know Hawkesbury all you can. Moral chap--like you
and me, eh?" and here followed another dig in the ribs.
This was getting intolerable. However, at this point Whipcord pulled up
at a wayside inn, much to my relief. Anything was better than Masham's
conversation.
We halted a quarter of an hour, to give our horse time to get breath, as
Whipcord explained, but, as it really seemed, to allow that gentleman
and Masham to refresh themselves also.
When we started again my companion began almost immediately to resume
the conversation, but this time it was of a less personal nature, though
disagreeable enough.
For he made no secret at all that he was a youth of depraved tastes and
habits, and insisted on addressing me as though I resembled him in these
respects. He gave me what he doubtless intended to be a highly
entertaining and spicy account of many of his escapades and exploits in
town and country, appealing to me every few sentences as to what I
should have said or done or thought in similar circumstances.
And when he had exhausted his stories of himself he told me stories of
his friends, some of which were disgusting, some horrifying, and some
stupid. But with it all he had an air as if he believed everybody at
heart was bad, and as if morality and sobriety and unselfishness were
mere affectation and cant.
Has any of my readers ever met such a one as Masham? I hope not. If he
should, let him beware of him as the worst enemy a boy could encounter.
For no poison is more deadly than that which strives to make one man
lose all faith in his fellow-man.
I was so far infected by his manner that, though I felt ashamed to be
sitting and listening to his bad talk, I dared not protest, for fear of
appearing (what he would be sure to consider me), a hypocrite.
And so, unprofitably, the journey was beguiled, not without frequent
stoppings and refreshings, each of which had the effect of exhilarating
Whipcord's spirits and making Masham's tongue looser and looser.
At length Windsor was reached, and I looked forward to exchanging my
undesirable companion for more interesting occupation in seeing over the
town with its grand old castle.
But in this I was woefully disappointed. Whipcord drove straight up to
an inn in the town, where he ordered the horse and trap to be put up,
while we all entered the smoky coffee-room and discussed the
desirability of having dinner.
"I thought we were going to picnic out of doors?" I said, mildly, in
answer to Masham's appeal whether we should not order dinner where we
were.
"All very well if you could get your liquor laid on," said Whipcord. "I
fancy we'd better stay where we are. What do you say, Hawkesbury?"
"I'm sorry to disappoint Batchelor," said Hawkesbury, smiling, "but I
really think we shall get dinner more comfortably here. We've no plates
or knives; and, as Whipcord says, there would be a difficulty about the
beer."
I was outvoted, and had to give up my idea of a rustic meal in the open
air.
It was not a very pleasant dinner. Masham, despite Hawkesbury's
protests, persisted in interlarding it with his offensive stories, and
Whipcord, who was taking very decided measures to excite his spirits,
chimed in with his horsey slang, not unmixed with profanity.
"How are you getting on, Batchelor?" said the former presently to me.
"Don't be afraid of that bottle, man, it's only whisky!"
"Don't you believe him; it's gin," laughed Whipcord.
"I thought you said it was brandy," said Hawkesbury.
"There you are!" said Masham. "One says one thing, one another, and one
another. Now I tell you what, Batchelor shall be umpire, and we'll each
put five shillings on it, eh? What do you say to that?"
"I'd rather not bet," replied Hawkesbury, "but I'd like to know what
Batchelor says it is."
"I'll go half-sovs. with you on it," said Whipcord.
"Done with you!" said Masham; "but Hawkesbury must go too, for if it's
brandy we both lose."
"I'd rather not bet," said Hawkesbury, "but if it will spoil your fun if
I don't I'll join."
"Thanks. Now, Batchelor, fill up, old toper, and give us your verdict."
"I really am no judge of spirits," said I. "Innocent babe," said
Masham, "how well he does it! But he doesn't seem to know the rule in
these cases," added he, winking at the other two. "What rule?" I
asked.
"Why, about hanging back. Half a tumbler for every twenty seconds,
isn't that it, Whipcord?"
"I thought it was a whole tumbler!"
"Ah, wouldn't you take your time to decide, eh? Come now," said Masham,
taking out his watch, "we'll start now."
"Hold hard," said Whipcord. "Surely we are to have glasses too, to see
if he guesses right."
"Very well, fill all round. Now, Batchelor."
"I really can't do it," I said, faintly. "Five seconds gone!" bawled
Masham, laughing. "Please, don't be so foolish," I cried, getting
alarmed. "Hawkesbury, please stop them!"
"Ten seconds gone, eleven, twelve!"
"I tell you, I--"
"Seventeen, eighteen," said Masham, rising and reaching out his arm for
the bottle.
There was no help for it. I seized my glass and gulped down its
contents. It made me cough and sputter, and my eyes watered, greatly to
the amusement of my persecutors.
"What is it?" they all cried.