"Oh, I've got one--a beauty--young Trimble; he sat next to you at
register to-day. You'll hit it off with him to a T. Talking of tea, by
the way, it's time we showed up at Pridgin's. Come along, and I'll
introduce you."
The reader may not believe it, but my interview with Tempest helped to
knock the nonsense out of me more than any treatment I had yet
undergone. It was not so much the caning (which, by the way, I
afterwards discovered to be a wholly unauthorised proceeding on my old
comrade's part), but his plain advice, and the friendly way in which it
was all given. It made me realise that he really meant to stick by me
and pull me through my troubles, and the sense of his interest in me
made up wonderfully for the loneliness which had been growing on me ever
since I entered Low Heath that morning.
Pridgin, as became a member of the Eleven, received me with dignity
quite devoid of curiosity. He informed Tempest that he considered it
was playing it pretty low down on him to let an idiot like me loose on
him. Still, times were bad, and one must put up with what one could
get.
Whereat I had the good sense to grin appreciatively, and was thereupon
permitted to boil my new master's eggs and stand by the kettle until it
was ready for the tea.