_ CHAPTER TWENTY TWO. HOW MY MASTER AND I WENT OUT TO BREAKFAST, AND WHOM WE MET
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. _