Gus proceeded then to divulge his plan for giving Tom Drift his revenge
on my master.
"Let's take him to Gurley races on Saturday," said he. "You know it's a
holiday, and if we can only get him with us, well astonish his
sanctimonious young soul. What do you say?"
"You'll never get him to come," said Margetson.
"Won't we? Well see about that," replied Gus, "he needn't know where
he's going."
"But even so," said Drift, "you won't get him; he's not in love with me,
and I don't fancy any of you are much in his line."
"Oh, you'll have to manage that part, Tom. You know how the young
idiot's pining to make it up with you, for your dear old mother's sake!"
"Now you needn't start that nonsense again," put in Tom sulkily.
"All right; but don't you see, if you were to take a forgiving fit and
make up to him, and talk about the old lady and his watch, and all that,
he'd be out of his wits with joy? and then if you asked him to come for
a day's fishing on Saturday, we could meet you somewhere on the road,
and then he'd have to come whether he liked or not; and won't we
astonish him!"
Tom mused a little.
"It's not a bad idea," said he presently, "if it would only work. But I
can't make up to the young puppy as you think. Ten to one I should stop
short in the middle and kick him."
"That would spoil all the fun. Try it on, any way, it'll be a nice
little excitement to have young Innocent with us. And now, Tom, where
are blacks and reds; I'm just in the humour for a rubber, aren't you?"
The host produced from a locked desk a dirty and much-worn pack of
cards, and the party sat down to play.
They played for penny points, and as Gus and Margetson were partners, it
is hardly necessary to say that Drift and his ill-looking friend lost
every game.
Before this amiable and congenial quartet separated, Gus had referred
again to the scheme of getting Charlie to Gurley races, and got Drift to
promise he would secure his victim next day.
Next day, accordingly, as Charlie was in the midst of a desperate game
of fives with his friend Jim, a small boy came to him and said that Tom
Drift wanted him.
"What for?" demanded Charlie, who, since his talk with the elder
Halliday, had felt somewhat "shy" about Tom.
"I don't know," said the boy.
"Your turn, Charlie," called out Jim from the end of the court.
Charlie took his turn while he was revolving on his answer to this
mysterious summons.
"What does that child want?" inquired Jim, with all the loftiness of a
second-form boy speaking of a first.
"He says Tom Drift wants me."
"Whew!" whistled Jim, who of course knew the whole mystery of the affair
between his chum and Tom; "tell him to go to Jericho! Look out for
yourself!"
And so saying, he took his turn with the ball.
"That wouldn't do," said Charlie; "I don't want to rile him."
"_I'd_ like to have a chance," retorted the implacable Jim. "Well,
then, tell him you can't come. Here, young un, tell Tom Drift Charlie
can't come. Do you hear? Cut your sticks!"
But Charlie called the messenger back. "I _could_, go if I wanted, Jim.
Better tell him I'd rather not come. Say that, youngster--I'd rather
not."
So off the youngster ran, and Charlie and Jim finished their game. Of
coarse, the youthful messenger gave Tom a full, true, and particular
account of this conversation in all its details, which rendered that
young gentleman rather less eager than ever for his enterprise.
However, he had the fear of Gus before his eyes, and strolled out into
the playground on the chance of coming across Charlie.
And he did come across him, arm-in-arm with the faithful Jim. Tom
worked his face into the ghastly similitude of a friendly smile as he
approached, and said, in as genial a voice as he could pretend, "I'm
glad I met you, Newcome, because I want to speak to you, if you don't
mind taking a turn round the playground."
Charlie, of course, was astonished; he had expected at the very least to
be kicked over the wall when he saw Tom approach, and he was utterly at
a loss to understand this not unfriendly greeting. Innocent boy! it
never occurred to him the demonstration could be anything but real. Jim
would have been a tougher subject to deal with. Indeed, as he let go
Charlie's arm, and saw him walk off with Tom, he muttered to himself,
not caring particularly whether the latter heard him or not.
"Gammon! that's what it is."
Charlie had not long to wait before his companion began the
conversation.
"I suppose you wonder why I want you, Newcome?" said he. "The fact is,
I've been thinking I wasn't altogether right in being down on you the
other day about lending me that watch, especially as you were a new boy;
and I'm sorry if I hurt you."
Charlie sprung towards him and caught his arm.
"Oh, Tom Drift, don't say that, please! It was my fault--all my fault,
and I have been so sorry ever since. And you will be friends now, won't
you? I do so want to be, because I promised your mother--"
Tom gave a quick gesture of impatience, which, if Charlie had
understood, he would have known how near receiving a kick he was at that
moment.