My Friend Smith

I was not in a condition to enjoy myself. The thought of Jack haunted me all the evening and made me miserable. I fancied him walking back from Hawk Street alone. He would stop to talk to Billy, I knew, and then he would go on to Beadle Square and bury himself in his book till bedtime. Would he ever think of me? Why, even the little s...o...b..ack was more to him now than I was.

I got home late--so late that Mrs Nash protested angrily, and threatened to stand my irregularities no longer. Jack was not asleep when I entered the room, but at sight of me he turned over in his bed and drew the clothes round him. I was angry and miserable and made no attempt to speak to him. But I could not sleep. The spirit seemed to have gone out of my life in London, and I dreaded to-morrow as much as ever I had hated to-day.

I rose early in the morning, and after a hurried breakfast started from the house before Jack came down. At least I could take refuge in my work at the office.

I had the place to myself for quite half an hour, when Hawkesbury arrived.

"Well, Batchelor," said he, "you are industrious. I thought I should be first to-day, but you are before me. Where's your friend Smith?"

"I don't know," I said, hurriedly.

"I'm afraid," said Hawkesbury, with his sweet smile, "you and Smith haven't been getting on well lately. I noticed yesterday you never spoke to one another."

"I'm not obliged to speak to him," I growled.

"Certainly not. In fact I think it's very kind indeed of you to make him your friend under the circ.u.mstances."

Of course I knew what these last words meant. A day or two ago they would have terrified me; but now in my mortified state of mind they didn't even offend me.

"Jack and I always got on well," I said, "until he began to interfere with my affairs. I didn't like that."

"Of course not; n.o.body does. But then you know he has always been a sort of guardian to you."

"He was never anything of the sort," I retorted.

"Well," said Hawkesbury, pleasantly, but with a touch of melancholy in his voice, "I never like to see old friends fall out. Would you like me to speak to him and try to make it up?"

"Certainly not," I exclaimed. "If I want it, I can do that myself."

"What can he do himself?" cried Doubleday, entering at this moment with Crow and Wallop, and one or two others of last night's party. "Was the young un saying he could find his way home by himself after that supper last night, eh? My eye, that's a good 'un, isn't it, Crow?"

"Nice grat.i.tude," cried Crow, "after our carrying him home and propping him up against his own front door."

"I wonder what his friend Smith thought of it?" said Wallop; "he must have been shocked."

"When you fellows have done," I said, who had felt bound to submit

"What a joker the fellow is!" said Doubleday. "One would think he was always at his work."

"I want to work now," I said. "I do indeed."

"Do you indeed?" said Doubleday, mocking my tones and making a low bow.

"Since when did you take a fancy for hard labour?"

"Hard labour?"

At that moment the door opened and Jack Smith entered.

I could notice the quick start he gave as the words fell suddenly on his ear. He gave one scared look round the office, and then went quietly to his desk.

At the sight of him there was an abrupt silence amongst us. Crow and Wallop stopped short in the middle of their exclamation. Hawkesbury and I buried ourselves in our work, and Doubleday, standing before the fire, began to whistle softly.

Could anything have happened more awkwardly and suspiciously? Jack must certainly believe we were all talking about him, and the ill-fated word he had overheard would naturally suggest to him--

"When you've done laughing, young Batchelor," said Doubleday, stopping short in his whistling, "we'll get to work."

This unexpected remark, which of course was a delicate way of calling everybody's attention to my rueful countenance, served to put all the rest of the company except myself at their ease, and Mr Barnacle's entrance a minute afterwards put an end for the time to any further conversation.

But the day dragged on miserably. What must Jack think of me? He would be sure to believe the worst of me, and it was impossible for me to explain.

"After all," I thought, "if he does choose to form wrong conclusions, why should I afflict myself? No one was even speaking of him when he entered the office. What business of mine is it to put him right?"

And then, as usual, I forgot all about the injury I had done him, all my treachery, all my meanness, and instead felt rather aggrieved, and persuaded myself it was I, not he, who was the injured person.

At dinner-time I ostentatiously went out arm-in-arm with Hawkesbury, and when on returning I met Smith on the stairs I brushed past him as if I had not seen him.

That afternoon I was called upon unexpectedly to go down to the docks to see after the s.h.i.+pment of some goods. I was relieved to have the excuse for being alone and getting away from the unpleasant surroundings of Hawk Street.

It was late in the afternoon when I returned, so late that I almost expected the fellows would some of them have left for the day. But as I entered the office I noticed they were all there, and became aware that something unusual was taking place. From the loud tones of the speakers I concluded the partners had left for the day.

At first I could not tell whether it was a joke or a quarrel that was being enacted; but it soon began to dawn on me. Jack Smith was being set on by the others.

What his offence had been I could not quite gather, though I believe it consisted in his insisting on using the ledger he was at work on till the actual hour for ceasing work arrived, while Harris, who was responsible for the locking-up of the books, and who wanted this evening to go half an hour earlier, was demanding that he should give it up now.

"I must finish these accounts to-night," said Jack.

"I tell you I'm not going to be kept here half an hour just to please you," replied Harris.

"We're not supposed to stop work till seven," said Jack; "that's the time we always work to when Mr Barnacle is here. And it's only half- past six now."

"What business of yours is it when we're supposed to work to, Mr Prig?"

demanded Harris, savagely. "You're under my orders here, and you'll do what I tell you."

"I'm under Mr Barnacle's orders," said Jack, going on with his writing.

"You mean to say you're not going to do what I tell you?" asked Harris, in a rage.

"I'm going to do what's right--that's all," said Smith, quietly.

"Right! You humbug! You're a nice respectable fellow to talk about right to us, Mr Gaol-bird! As if we didn't know who you are! You son of a thief and swindler! Right, indeed! We don't want to hear about right from you!"

Jack gave one startled, scared, upward look as he spoke; but it was turned not to the speaker, but to me. I shall never forget that look.

I could have sunk into the earth with shame and misery as I encountered it.

He closed the ledger, and with white face and quivering lips took his hat and walked silently from the office.

To me his manner was more terrible than if he had broken out into torrents of pa.s.sion and abuse. At the sight of his face that moment my treachery and sin appeared suddenly in their true light before my eyes.

I had been false to my best friend, and more than false.