The Adventures of a Three-Guinea Watch Part 10

"Tom Drift, you know; we had a row the first day."

"I know," replied Joe; "about that everlasting watch of yours, wasn't it?"

"Yes," said Charlie, "I didn't like to lend it him, because--"

"I know all about that," said Halliday. "You were squeamish about something or other he wanted it for. Well, the watch belonged to you, I suppose, and you aren't obliged to lend it to anybody. What on earth do you want to go worrying about the thing any more for?"

"I'm not; only I wanted to be friends with Tom Drift."

"What for?" demanded Joe.

"Oh, because--because I promised his mother I would be," pleaded Charlie.

"All I can say is, you had no business to promise any one to be friends with a fellow you never saw."

"But she said he was a nice fellow; and besides he made my watch go when it had stopped," added Charlie, as a great argument.

"Why, Charlie, you are a greater little noodle than I took you for.

Every one who calls that precious watch a good name is your master, and you're his slave."

"Not so bad as that, Joe," said Charlie; "but I say, isn't Tom Drift a nice boy, then?"

"Isn't he? that's all," replied the other. "I'm not going to abuse him behind his back, but take my advice, young un. You are better off as Tom's enemy than his friend, and don't you try to make up to him any more."

"Why not?" asked Charlie in bewilderment.

"Never you mind," was all Joe's reply; "and now hand me down my Liddell and Scott and make yourself scarce."

Charlie, sorely puzzled, did as he was bid.

He certainly was not in love with Tom Drift; but it was not easy for him to give up, without an effort, his promise to be his friend.

Tom, however, was by no means in need of friends. Not many weeks after the day when Charlie had left his study, disappointed and miserable, he might have been seen entertaining company of quite a different sort.

[My readers, let me here observe, must not be too curious to understand how it is I am able to speak of so many things which must have taken place beyond the range of my observation. They will find the reason all in good time.]

The supper party over which Tom presided consisted of four boys, including himself. One was Shadbolt, on whose account, it will be remembered, Tom had desired to borrow Charlie's watch. Shadbolt was an unwholesome-looking fellow of fifteen, with coa.r.s.e features and eyes that could not look you straight in the face if they had tried. He was accompanied by his chum Margetson, who certainly had the advantage of his friend in looks, as well as in intellect. The quartet was completed by Gus Burke, one of the smallest and most vicious boys at Randlebury.

He was the son of a country squire, who had the unenviable reputation of being one of the hardest drinkers and fastest riders in his county; and the boy had already shown himself only too apt a pupil in the lessons in the midst of which his childhood had been pa.s.sed. He had at his tongue's tip all the slang of the stables and all the blackguardisms of the betting-ring; and boy--almost child--as he was, he affected the swagger and habits of a "fast man," like a true son of his father.

At Randlebury he had wrought incredible mischief. Tom Drift was not the only soft-minded vain boy whom he had infected by his pernicious example. Like all reckless swaggerers, he had his band of admirers, who marked every action and drank in every word that fell from their hero's lips.

It was just with such boys as Drift that his influence was most telling; for Tom was a boy not without apt.i.tude to note and emulate a powerful example, whether it were good or bad, while his vanity rendered him as pliant as wax to the hand of the flatterer.

Such was the party which a.s.sembled surrept.i.tiously in Tom's study that evening and partook of the smuggled supper.

Tom had had hard work to provide for his guests, and had succeeded only at the risk of grave penalties if detected.

"I say, Tom, old horse, this is a prime spread!" said Gus; "where did you get it?"

"Oh!" said Tom, "I had a new hat coming from Tiler's, so I got old Tripes (the butcher) to make a neat brown-paper parcel of the kidneys, and got them up in my gossamer. The old donkey might have done the thing better though, for the juice squeezed through, and the inside of my hat looks as if I had lately been scalped."

"Hard lines! But never mind, perhaps they'll put it down to the crack you got on your forehead."

Tom flushed scarlet; any reference to his inglorious scuffle with Charlie Newcome was odious to him, as Gus and the others knew well enough. He said nothing, however, only scowled angrily.

"What!" said Gus, "does it hurt you still then? Never mind, it was a good shot, and I wouldn't be ashamed of having floored you myself."

"He didn't floor me; I fell!" cried Tom indignantly.

"Did you? Rather a way fellows have when they get knocked down!"

"I was not knocked down, Gus, I tell you; and you'd better shut up!"

"All right, old horse! you mustn't mind a bit of chaff. I'm sure you've taken it all very well."

"Yes," said Margetson, "everybody thinks you must take after your mother; you're such a sweet-tempered chap."

"What do you know about my mother?" snarled Tom.

"Only what your young friend tells everybody about her."

"What business has he to go talking all over the school about my affairs?" exclaimed Tom furiously. "What's my mother to do with him?"

"A great deal, it seems," replied Margetson, "for he promised her, on the strength of her a.s.sertion that you were a nice boy, to be your friend, and now he's awfully hurt you won't let him."

"I thought it was Tom who was awfully hurt," put in Gus, by way of parenthesis.

"I tell you what it is, you fellows," said Tom, "it may be all very funny for you, but I've had quite enough of it. Ever since that young canting humbug came here I've led the life of a dog. If, instead of making a fool of me, you'd tell me how I can pay him out, I should be better pleased."

"All very fine," said Margetson; "why don't you pay your own bills?"

"If you want some one to punch his head," said Shadbolt the ugly, "I don't mind trying; my life is insured."

"Suppose we make him stupid," suggested Gus, "with milk punch, and shove him inside the doctor's study."

"Couldn't you get hold of his watch and boil it?" said Margetson, who had heard of the experiments practised on me in Mrs Packer's parlour.

"If I got hold of it I'd smash it into fifty pieces!" growled Tom between his teeth.

"Look here, you fellows, I've got a glorious plan!" exclaimed Gus suddenly.

"What is it?" they all cried.

But Gus's plan requires a new chapter.

CHAPTER SEVEN.