My Friend Smith

"Only yesterday," continued Wallop, complacently, evidently noticing and enjoying my confusion, "he was asking me what I thought of your credit.

Shoddy and I are chummy you know, Crow."

"Will you shut up and let me get on with my work?" I cried, despairingly.

"I told him," continued Wallop, deliberately, "I knew you only had twelve bob a week, and that, though you were a very nice boy, I would advise him to proceed with caution, as I knew for a fact--"

I sprang from my seat, determined, if I could not silence him by persuasion, I would do it by force. However, he adroitly fortified himself behind his desk, and proceeded, greatly to the amus.e.m.e.nt of every one but Jack, "I knew for a fact you owed a pot of money at the tuck shop--"

Here the speaker had to pause for the laughter which this announcement had elicited.

"And that the Twins had advanced you getting on for half-a-sov., besides--"

There was no escape. I sank down in my seat and let him go on as he liked.

I had the satisfaction of hearing a full, true, and particular account of my debts and delinquencies, which every one--I could not for the world tell how--seemed to know all about, and I had the still greater satisfaction of knowing that my friend Smith was hearing of my extravagances now for the first time, and not from my lips.

What would he think of me? How strange he must think it in me not to have trusted in him when he had confided to me his own far more important secret. I felt utterly ashamed. And yet, when I came to think of it, if I had acted foolishly, I had not committed a crime. Why should I be ashamed?

"I say," I began, when that evening we were walking home, rather moodily, side by side--"I say, you must have been astonished by what those fellows were saying to-day, Jack."

"Eh? Well, I couldn't quite make it out."

"They are always chaffing me about something," I said.

"Then it was all a make-up of Wallop's about what you owed?"

"Well, no--not exactly. The fact is, I do owe one or two little accounts."

"Do you?" said Jack. "It's a pity."

I did not quite like the tone in which he said this. It may have been that my conscience was not quite clear as to my own straightforwardness in this matter. I was not obliged to tell him everything, to be sure; but then, no more was I obliged to try to deceive him when I did tell him. At any rate, I felt a trifle irritated, and the rest of our walk proceeded in silence till we reached Style Street. Here we found Billy at his old sport, but evidently expecting us.

"s.h.i.+ne 'e boots, governor!" cried he, with a profound grin.

Jack put his foot upon the box, and the young artist fell-to work instantly.

"I'll stroll on," I said, out of humour, and anxious to be alone.

"All serene!" replied Jack, solemnly as usual.

By the time he turned up at Beadle Square I had somewhat recovered my equanimity, and the rest of the evening was spent

"I hope he'll be a nice fellow," he said. "What's his name?"

"I don't know. He's a nephew of Merrett's, they say, and a good fellow.

He's coming in as a clerk at first, but Harris says he's to be taken in as a partner in time."

"Then he's only a boy yet?"

"I suppose so--seventeen or eighteen."

Of course there was a considerable amount of speculation and curiosity as to the new arrival during the week which followed. I think most of us were a little jealous, and Doubleday was especially indignant at the fellow's meanness in being the governor's nephew.

"Of course, he'll peach about all we do," growled he, "and give his precious uncle a full, true, and particular account every evening of everything every one of us has been up to during the day. And the worst of it is, one can't even lick the beggar now and then, like any other fellow."

It undoubtedly was hard lines, and we all sympathised not a little with the chief clerk's grievance.

Our suspense was not protracted. On the appointed day Mr Merrett arrived, accompanied by a slender youth of about eighteen, at sight of whom Jack and I started as though we had been shot. The new-comer was no other than our former schoolfellow, Hawkesbury.

If a skeleton had walked into the office we could not have been more taken aback. Of all persons in the world, who would have guessed that this fellow whom we had last seen at Stonebridge House, and had never even heard of since should turn up now as the nephew of our employer, and as one of our own future chiefs at the office?

"Gentlemen," said Mr Merrett, "this is my nephew, Mr Hawkesbury. I trust you will all be good friends. Eh! what!"

This last exclamation was occasioned by Hawkesbury's advancing first to me and then to Smith, and shaking our hands, much to the surprise of everybody.

"These two gentlemen were at school with me, uncle," he said, by way of explanation. "It is quite a pleasant surprise to me to see them again."

"Very singular," said Mr Merrett; "I'm glad of it. You'll get on all the better. Harris; perhaps you will allow Mr Hawkesbury to a.s.sist you for a day or two, just while he is learning the work."

So saying, the senior partner vanished into his own room, leaving Hawkesbury in the midst of his new comrades.

I did not know whether to be glad or sorry. For myself, though I never quite liked Hawkesbury, I had always got on well with him, and been disposed to believe him a well-meaning fellow.

But on Jack Smith's account I felt very sorry, and not a little uneasy, for they had never "hit" it, and from what I could judge never would.

However, for the present at any rate, such apprehensions seemed to be groundless, for Hawkesbury, naturally a little ill at ease among so many strangers, appeared to be glad to claim the acquaintance of one of them, and sat down beside him and began to talk in quite a cordial manner.

"This is a pleasant surprise," he said again; "who would have thought of seeing you and Batchelor in Uncle Merrett's office?"

"We've been here several months," replied Jack, not quite as cordially, I could see, as his old schoolfellow.

"Have you? I'm afraid I shall never learn as much as you have," he said, with his old smile.

"Now then, young governor," said Harris, "when it's _quite_ convenient to you we'll get to work. Don't put yourself out, pray; but if you can spare the time from your friend, I should like you to add up this column."

Hawkesbury looked a little astonished at this speech, but at once replied, with a smile, "You are Mr Harris, I suppose? I shall be glad to learn what you can teach me."

If Harris had expected to put the new-comer down by his witticisms he was sorely mistaken. Hawkesbury coolly seated himself at the desk beside him, and, with the air more of a man inspecting the work of another than of a learner seeking information, he examined the papers and books handed to him and catechised Harris as to their contents.

It was evident that he was fully aware from the beginning of his own position at the office, and that he wished us all to be aware of it also. He adopted a patronising air towards me and Jack and the other clerks, as if we were already in his employment and doing his work.

"A jolly cool hand," growled Doubleday to Crow, in an undertone most unusual to him when the princ.i.p.als were out of hearing. "I'm glad I'm not Harris."

"Now then, Harris," said Crow, "mind how you dot your p's and q's, old man--I mean your i's."

Hawkesbury looked up from his work and said, smiling, "I think Mr Harris dots his i's very well. What did you say is entered in this column, Harris?"

This was nothing short of a snub to Crow, who was quiet for the rest of the day.