My Friend Smith Part 46

After business, as Jack and I were proceeding to walk home, Hawkesbury came up and joined our party.

"Which way are you going?" inquired he. "I'll join you, if I may."

We could hardly say no, and yet we neither of us relished the offer.

However, he did not appear to notice our reluctance, and walked along with us, conversing in his usual pleasant way.

"I hope we shall be good friends at the office," he said, after a long uncomfortable pause.

"I hope so," said I, who knew it was not much use to rely on Jack Smith to keep up the conversation.

"I dare say you know," said he, "that my uncle's idea is for me some day to join him and Mr Barnacle, but of course that depends on how I get on."

"Yes," said I, as there was a pause here.

"In any case I hope that won't make any difference between us old schoolfellows," he continued. "I hope not," again I replied.

"Where are you living in London?" he presently asked. I told him, and he thereupon proceeded to make further kind inquiries as to how we liked our quarters, if we had nice friends, what we did with ourselves, and so on. All of which it fell-to my lot to answer, as Jack Smith showed no inclination to a.s.sist me.

At length we reached the top of Style Street, where, as usual, the athletic Billy was at his sports. I really believe he spent the entire time he was not blacking boots in walking round and round his box on the palms of his hands with his feet up in the air.

At the sight of his patron he dropped promptly to attention.

"Well, Billy," said Smith, "are you ready for me?" Billy grinned all over his face, as he replied, "Yaas," and at once fell-to work.

Hawkesbury watched the incident with interest, not quite sure what to make of it, and rather taken aback to have our walk thus abruptly stopped.

"Old gal's bolted agin," observed Billy, in the middle of his task.

"'Ave any of you blokes saw her?"

"No," said Smith, "when did she go?"

"Last night," said Billy. "She give me a dose fust, and when I came round, if she ain't sloped along of all my browns. She's a rum un."

Poor Billy, what a picture of his domestic life was this!

"Bless you, though," continued he, breathing hard on to the toes of Jack's boot, "she'll turn up. When she's done them browns she'll step round for more. Bless her old soul!"

"You ought to keep your money where she can't find it," suggested Jack.

"'Tain't no concern of yourn where I keep my bra.s.s. Oh, my eye, there's a n.o.b!" cried he, suddenly perceiving Hawkesbury, who all this time had been looking on and listening in bewilderment. "s.h.i.+n'e boots next, cap'n? Oh my, ain't he a topper?"

This last appeal was made to Jack, whose boots were now clean, and who, of course, did not reply.

"Who's your friend?" said Hawkesbury to him, with a smile.

"My friend's a s...o...b..ack," drily replied Smith.

"All, a curious little fellow. Well, as I dare say you've plenty to say to one another, I'll be going. Good-bye," and he shook hands with us both and departed.

That evening Jack and I had a long and painful discussion about Hawkesbury. As usual, he had not a good word to say for him, while I, on the contrary, thought that at any rate he might be well-meaning.

"All I can say is," said Jack, "it wouldn't take much to make me leave Hawk Street now."

"Oh, don't say that!" I cried, miserable at the bare idea.

"Don't be afraid," said he, bitterly. "A convict's son can't get taken on anywhere, and I shall just have to stay where I am as long as there are the people at home to depend on me."

He said this in such a sad tone that my heart bled for him. Alas! there seemed to be anything but happy days in store for my friend Smith.

CHAPTER TWENTY.

HOW I SERVED MY FRIEND SMITH ANYTHING BUT A GOOD TURN.

A week sufficed to put Hawkesbury quite at his ease at Hawk Street. And it sufficed also to reconcile most of the clerks to the new arrival.

For Hawkesbury, although he proved plainly he was aware of his position and prospects, showed no inclination to be stiff or unfriendly with his new a.s.sociates. On the contrary, he took a good deal of trouble to make himself agreeable, and succeeded so well that in less than a week Doubleday p.r.o.nounced him "not such a cad as he might be," which was very great praise from him.

Jack Smith, however, was irreconcilable. He seemed to have an instinctive dislike to his old schoolfellow, and resented the least approach on his part to friendliness. It was in vain I argued with him and urged him.

"I'm sure he's civil enough," I said.

"I'm glad to hear it."

"Why ever are you so down on him? I'm sure he would only be too glad to be friendly."

"I don't like him," said Jack.

"At any rate," said I, "you need not take so much trouble to make an enemy of him. Some day you may be sorry for it."

Jack did not answer, and I saw it was no use pursuing the unpleasant topic. But I was vexed with him. Why should he consider himself better than all of us who had accepted the proffered friends.h.i.+p of our new comrade?

"Young Batch," said Doubleday one morning about a week after Hawkesbury's arrival, "come up to my diggings this evening. The other fellows are coming up, and the new boss too."

This was rather an awkward question, as since Jack's return I had not gone out, and I imagined every one would conclude it was no use inviting me without him.

"I know what you're going to say," said Doubleday, noticing my hesitation. "You'll ask Bull's-eye's leave, and then tell me. Here, Bull's-eye, Smith--whatever your name is--I want young Batch to come up to supper with me this evening, and like a dutiful boy he says he can't come till you give him leave. What do you say?"

"Don't be an a.s.s, Doubleday!" I cried, quite ashamed and confused to stand by and hear Smith thus appealed to. "I--I'm afraid I can't come this evening."

"Previous engagement?" said Doubleday, with a wink.

"No," I said; "I'm going for a walk with Smith."

"I'm going to stay here late to-night," said Jack, quietly, "I want to catch up some work." I wished I knew what he meant by it. "All serene!

then the young 'un can come to us, can't he?" said Doubleday.

"Thanks," said I, not appearing to notice that the question was addressed to Smith.