Jim Halliday--now a strapping youth of nineteen--was a good
representative of the "steady set" at Saint George's College. Indeed,
as he was intending to become a clergyman in due time, it would have
been 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 the
examination lists of his college. He was also an ardent superintendent
at a certain ragged-school in the town conducted by University men; and
was further becoming a well-known figure in the debates at the Union--on
all which accounts his friends were not a little satisfied. But on one
point Jim and his friends did not hit it. Ever since his Randlebury
days he had kept up his passion for athletic sports, and if he had now
been famous for nothing else at his college, he would at least have been
noted as a good bat, a famous boxer, a desperate man in a football
scrimmage, and a splendid oar. It was on this subject that Jim and his
relations were at variance. When I speak of "relations" I refer, by the
way, to a certain old-fashioned uncle and aunt in Cornwall, who since
Jim's father's death had assumed the guardianship of that youth and his
brothers and sisters. This good uncle and aunt were horribly shocked
that one destined for so solemn a sphere in life as the ministry should
profane himself with athletic sports. The matter formed the theme for
many serious remonstrances, and long letters addressed to the depraved
Jim, who, on his part, maintained his side of the argument with
characteristic vehemence. He actually spent a whole day in the college
library, making out a list of all the athletic divines in history since
the creation of the world, the which he hurled triumphantly at his good
relations' heads as an unanswerable challenge. But, however
satisfactory it may have been to Jim, it failed to convince them, and
neither party being disposed to give in, the feud in this particular had
become chronic.
All this Jim contrived to impart to George (for lack of better
conversation) in the course of a short walk previous to the breakfast in
his rooms, to which he was leading his new acquaintance a captive.
"I suppose we shall have it all opened again now," he remarked, "for you
may have seen that my name is down to play in the football-match against
Sandhurst."
"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 or
telegram 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 George
reproachfully, 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 asking
me, but I have made a rule, as I tell you, never to go out, and I've
told you the reason."
"An utterly rubbishing reason!" put in Jim.
"I promised to come with you because I thought there would be only us
two; but I really can't come if there are more."
"My dear fellow," said Jim good-humouredly, "anyone else would be
offended with you. Why, you're a regular bear."
"I know it's very rude of me," said George, feeling and looking very
uncomfortable, "and I don't want to be that."
"Of course you don't; so come along. Why, my dear fellow, one would
think my friends were all as abandoned wretches as I am, by the manner
in 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 ask
you 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 for
the `Wigram,' but everyone says you're safe; and the third is an old
particular school chum, who is playing in Sandhurst team against us, and
whom it is therefore my interest to incapacitate by a howling
breakfast."
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 a
good trencherman."
At the name I bounded nearly out of my master's pocket. Newcome! an old
school chum of Jim Halliday's. It must be my old master! And--yes--now
I remembered, he had spoken in one of his letters to Tom Drift of going
to Sandhurst Military College. It must be he. How I longed for my
master 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 end
proud of him; and when you've once seen him, you'll have seen the best
fellow 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 come
along, old man. I never had such hard work inviting a man to breakfast
in all my life."
"I'm certain I'm ill-mannered," said George, "but I won't hold out any
more. 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 he
opened 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 nothing
very grand, but they were palatial compared with the "Mouse-trap."
Cheerful and well-lighted, with a pleasant look-out into the old
quadrangle, comfortably furnished, further enlivened with all those
adornments 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 own
dingy 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 the
mysteries of coffee-making and egg-boiling, in the midst of which
occupation Clarke and the other Saint George's man arrived.
George felt very miserable on being introduced and devoutly hoped the
fellows would have sufficient to converse about among themselves,
without it being needful for him to come under observation. This
reserve, 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 got
hold 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 equally
embarrassed.
"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 the
gentleman you are speaking of is my friend here."
If Clarke and his friend had suddenly been confronted by a tribe of wild
Indians they could not have been more taken aback than they were at this
announcement. In fact, it was an awkward moment for everybody. Nobody
knew exactly what to say, or which way to look. But a welcome
interruption 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 light
feet came, and my agitation told me whom they brought.
There was a rap at the door, a click on the latch, and then, after all
these 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 in
his rooms; indeed, from the moment he entered them, he appeared as much
at home there as their own master. He greeted the visitors pleasantly,
and then, in the old Randlebury style, demanded if breakfast was
anywhere near ready, as he was starving.
He had the beginnings of a fierce moustache, he stood six feet high in
his boots, and there was a look of power about him which exceeded even
the promise of his Randlebury days. Otherwise he was the same. He had
the 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 and
rejoiced, I felt I would give the world to be back in my old place in
his pocket.
Jim, as he himself had said, was proud enough of his friend, and no
wonder. His arrival, too, at the instant when it occurred, was most
opportune, and made him a specially welcome addition to our party,
which, including my master, was very soon on the best of terms round the
hospitable Jim's table.
"It's not often," said that worthy, "one gets two pairs of deadly
enemies eating out of the same dish."
"What's the fellow talking about?" asked Charlie, passing up his plate
for 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's
the other pair?"
"Why, Clarke and Reader."
"I?" exclaimed Clarke, in an alarmed tone. "I hope Mr Reader and I are
not at enmity?"
"Oh, yes, you are; don't you know Reader's the fellow in against you for
the `Wigram'?" said Jim.
Clarke was astonished. He had been told there was another candidate for
the scholarship, who in some quarters was considered a formidable
opponent, but he had never fairly realised the fact till now.
"I'm very glad to meet you," said he, courteously, to George, "though I
can hardly wish you as much success in your exam, as I dare say you wish
yourself."
"I hope I shall not break my heart if I lose," replied George. "Are we
the only two in for it?"
And then they fell to talking about their approaching struggle, during
which 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 forget
him? What about him?"
"Why," said Jim, "I had a letter from my brother Joe the other day, and
he says Tom has altogether gone to the bad. He met him drunk coming out
of some slum in Holborn, and followed him for a long time in hopes of
being able to speak to him, but the fellow couldn't, or wouldn't
recognise him, and only swore. He is living at some disreputable
lodging-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 stuck
to the fellow as you did, old man, especially when he turned against
you. You're a better man than ever I shall be."
"Nonsense! I promised once to be his friend, that's all. Do send the
telegram 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 of
himself."
"Pity," said Charlie. "I say, old man, this is rare steak! Give us a
bit more. What time does the match begin?"
"At two. You old beggar! see if I don't pay off some old scores before
the day's over."
"I thought you told me once your people didn't fancy your going in for
athletics?"
"No more they do. I expect a stinger by this post; but I shall not open
it 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 that
precious silver watch of yours?"
It did one good to hear the laugh with which Charlie greeted this
reminder.
"I'd give my repeater, and a ten-pound note besides, to get back that
old watch," said he. (If he had but known!) "But there's no knowing
where it is now; poor Tom Drift must have parted with it years ago."
With such talk the meal proceeded, and presently the conversation grew
more 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 himself
by 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 own
intellectual standing; and he certainly forgave Jim his persistency in
compelling his company this morning. He forgot the patches in his
clothes among such gentlemen as Clarke and Charlie, and for the first
time in his life felt himself superior to his natural diffidence and
reserve. Who could help being at his ease where Charlie was? He kept
up a running fire of chaff at his old schoolfellow, for which
occasionally the others came in; and if it be true that laughter is a
good digestive, Jim Halliday's breakfast that morning must have agreed
with the five who partook of it.
"Who's this coming?" suddenly exclaimed the latter, as there came a
sound of footsteps slowly ascending the stairs.
"Two of them!" said Charlie. "Perhaps it's your tailor and your hatter
with 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 of
you!" he shouted.
The door opened slowly, and there appeared to the astonished eyes of Jim
and his party a grave middle-aged gentleman and still more grave and
middle-aged lady.
"Oh, my prophetic soul! my uncle and aunt!" groaned Jim.