My Friend Smith Part 67

In due time the doctor paid his final visit and gave me leave to return to Hawk Street.

I can't describe how strange it seemed to be walking out once more in the open air, leaning on Jack's arm, and feeling myself an active member of society.

The part of the town where Jack's lodgings were situated was new to me.

It could not have been worse than Beadle Square, but it wasn't much better. This street was narrow and squalid and crowded, and presented no attractions either in the way of fresh air or convenience. Still, to me, any place that harboured Jack Smith would have been more homelike than the stateliest mansion.

"By the way," said Jack, as we walked down to the office the first morning, "I suppose you don't want to go back to Beadle Square."

"Not if I can help it," I said; "the only thing is, I suppose, I ought to tell my uncle. You know he paid my lodging there."

"Oh, that's all right," said Jack. "I went down one day and saw Mrs Nash and told her what had become of you, and said she might let your bed to any one else. And I wrote to your uncle (I thought it best not to bother you by telling you at the time), and told him where you were and how you were getting on. He wrote back a civil note to say he was glad to hear you were getting better; and with regard to the lodgings, he had been just about to write and say that as you had now a respectable income at the office he would not be continuing to pay for your lodging; so that when you got well you might consider yourself free to do as you liked in that respect."

"Awfully obliging of him," said I.

"Well, it struck me as rather a cordial way of putting it," remarked Jack, laughing.

"I had better look for quarters at once," said I.

"Do nothing of the kind. Stay where you are!"

"What?" I exclaimed, in pleased astonishment. The idea had never occurred to me before. "How ever could I? As it is I've been turning Mr Smith out long enough."

"He was talking to me about it the other day," said Jack. "He finds that all his time is now required at the office of the newspaper he writes for, and therefore he has really no use for his room except as a bedroom. So that our room up stairs is at our complete disposal."

"How jolly!" I exclaimed. "Nothing could have happened more delightfully."

"Nothing," said Jack, as pleased as I was; "and he says any time of an evening when he's away we can use the lower room as if it was our own.

Isn't it brickish of him?"

I agreed heartily in the sentiment, and proceeded to Hawk Street with less weight on my mind than ever.

There, as was natural, I found myself an object of a good deal of interest and remark. Doubleday, who once during my illness had sent me a short note of sympathy by Smith, was the first to welcome me back to my old quarters.

"Here we are again, young 'un, alive and kicking," cried he, clapping me on the back as I entered. "How his whiskers have grown, haven't they, Wallop? Well, how's your game leg?"

"It was my arm, not my leg," I said.

"No! was it? I heard it was your off-leg and your spine and your skull that were smashed. That's what made me so surprised to see you. Never mind, I'm glad to see you, young 'un, for there's a ticklish bit of figure work to do. None of the others would look at it, so I've saved it up for you, my boy."

"And I'm ready for it," said I.

Crow and Wallop greeted me rather more shyly. I fancy they had had rather a fright when they heard how very ill I had been.

They shook hands rather sheepishly, and Wallop said something about the weather which had no actual bearing, on my recovery. I had come to the conclusion during my illness that Crow and Wallop had not been altogether profitable companions, and I was therefore glad they were not more demonstrative now.

But I had yet to meet Hawkesbury, and wished the operation well over; for however much I may once have believed in him, I now disliked him, and determined to have as little to do with him as possible.

"Ah, Batchelor," cried he, coming up with outstretched hand, and beaming as if the incident in my sick-room weeks ago had never happened. "So glad to see you back. We have missed you greatly. How do you feel?

You're looking better than when I saw you last."

I just took his hand and said, "Thank you," as shortly as I could.

He appeared neither to notice my manner nor my tone.

"You've had a long spell of it," said he. "I'd no idea a broken arm was such a serious thing. But I dare say you'll be all the better for your long rest."

I set to work to open my desk and get together my papers and pens, ready for work.

"It was a bad fall you had," continued he, standing beside me as I was thus employed. "You have no idea how distressed I was when it happened.

But Whipcord was really in such a shocking state that night that--"

"Can you give me a piece of blotting-paper?" I said to Doubleday across the desk.

He waited till I had got what I wanted, and proceeded, smiling as ever, "It really wasn't safe for any of us. Masham, by the way, was very sorry to hear of your accident, and asked me to tell you so. I meant to do so the evening I called, but your friend was really so polite that I forgot all about it."

I had stood it thus far, and kept to my resolve of saying as little as I could. But when he brought in Jack's name it was all I could do to hold my peace.

I made an excuse to leave my place and consult a Directory, in the hopes of shaking him off, but there he was when I returned, ready to go on as benignly as ever.

"I'm sure, Batchelor," said he, "it must have been greatly against you to be cooped up in that miserable lodging all the time, and in--what I should call--such uncongenial society. But when one is ill, of course one has just to put up with what one can get."

My patience had reached its limit at last.

"My friend's society is more congenial to me than yours is at present!"

I said, colouring up and bending over my writing.

"I see," said he, "he has got you under this thumb again, and means to keep you there."

"Will you let me get on with my work?" I said.

"Oh, certainly!" said he, smiling blandly. "I merely wished to tell you how glad I was to see you back at last; but I dare say that doesn't interest you."

I made no answer, and, seeing that I was determined to hold no more conversation, he gently withdrew.

I felt quite relieved when he had done so, and still more to find that, for the first time in my life, I had been proof against his blandishments.

"What have you been doing to Petty-Cash?" whispered Doubleday to me, presently; "he looks so smiling and benevolent that I'm certain you must have given him mortal offence about something or other."

"I don't care if I have," I said.

Doubleday whistled softly. "I say, young 'un," said he, "your illness has smartened you up a bit, I reckon, eh?"

This, coming from the source it did, I felt to be a compliment.

However, I had more calls upon my new resolutions before the day was over.

The partners arrived and received me--each in his own peculiar way--very kindly. Mr Merrett was good enough to say the work of the office had suffered a good deal in my absence, and Mr Barnacle said he hoped I had come back prepared to make up for lost time. To both which observations I listened respectfully, and returned once more to my desk.

The morning pa.s.sed quickly and busily. I had made a plunge into the difficult task so considerately saved up for me by Doubleday, and felt quite refreshed by the array of figures to be dealt with. In fact, I was so engrossed with it that when Jack came and asked me if I was going out to lunch I said I really could not leave it now, but would take my lunch later on.