Chapter III: Act II: , SCENE 1. The fète of the Nogogos at Caskowiski’s Palace (2)

‘Here am I, a working man’--this is where I coughed, but Reggie did not appear to notice it--‘with two lectures between now and lunch, both of which I am compelled to cut because an unfeeling Proctor is dunning me for a pound, which I must borrow from some one before one o’clock.’

‘Yes, it is very hard,’ I agreed. ‘But still I believe you have occasionally steeled your heart to cut a lecture even when there has been no Proctor in the background, and after all he can’t help it, it’s his business; I daresay if you knew him you’d find that he smoked a meerschaum and swore very much like other people.’

‘Yes, I know, that’s all right,’ said Reggie, who never likes to pursue an argument after he has got his own particular complaint off his chest, ‘we’ll wait for the Pilot to have his brekker and then go round to see Freddy.’

‘He’s sure to have his cheque by then,’ I said, ‘and of course he’ll lend us the wherewithal.’

The Pilot finished breakfast at 11.20 precisely, and then after carefully perusing the current society divorce case, we made our way to St. Aldate’s.

We found Freddy crouching in an arm-chair murmuring to himself passages from Anson, and instantly demanded if the money had arrived.

‘Oh, I dare say it’ll come some time to-day,’ said Freddy, crossly, and muttered to himself, ‘Agents of Necessity.’

‘That’s no earthly good,’ replied the Pilot, ‘we must find three quid by one o’clock and the oof-tree bears no fruit at this time of year.’

‘What’s the money for?’ demanded Freddy.

‘Progged in the “Shades,”’ responded Reggie laconically, ‘and you are going to pay the fine.’

‘I didn’t know it before,’ Freddy answered, ‘but of course if the money comes in time it’s yours.’

‘We must manage it somehow,’ I said, ‘when’s the next post?’

‘Ring and ask the Corker, I don’t know.’

‘Which it sometimes comes at a quarter to one, and sometimes at ’arf past,’ said the old lady on being interrogated.

When he heard this the Pilot collapsed heavily into an arm-chair, while Freddy, who did not yet fully appreciate the gravity of the situation, went upstairs to search for a note-book in the other sitting-room.

Soon after he had left the room a raucous voice was heard downstairs enquiring for Milord Gilderdale, and the Corker appeared to be engaged in an animated discussion with the owner thereof.

From two heavy thumps on the ceiling I gathered that Freddy had heard the caller’s voice and did not desire to interview him.

Mrs. Corker now appeared, and after expressing surprise at Freddy’s absence, asked me to interview, and if possible dispose of ‘that there houtrageous man in the ’all.’

On descending I found a corpulent man, with a rubicund face and no perceptible chin, standing with a sheaf of documents in his hand.

‘Good mornin’, sir,’ he said, ‘Hi come from Dopin and Bleeder’s the ’orse-dealers, and I’ve got a little bill ’ere for yer, honly a matter of fifteen pounds, as I’ll trouble you to settle.’

‘Doping and Bleeder,’ I murmured, ‘I don’t know the people.’

‘Now look ’ere, sir,’ he said with an expression which betokened sorrow rather than anger, ‘none o’ these little games, you’re Lord Gilderdale, haren’t you?’

‘Certainly not,’ I replied crossly, ‘next time perhaps you will make sure of whom you are talking to before you descend to impertinence, my man; little games indeed.’

‘Ho, then you’re the O’Roozer,’ he remarked, ‘I’ve got a bill for you for twenty-three pounds seventeen and fourpence.’

‘What’s the fourpence for?’ I queried, but by this time the portly gentleman was getting somewhat angry.

‘Never yer mind, sir, it’s for value received, hand given,’ he said, ‘an’ our Mr. Bleeder says as ’ow ’e ’opes you’ll see your way to lettin’ ’im ’ave the money this week, or ’e’ll ’ave to take proceedings, which is always most repugnant both for you and hus.’

‘Now you’ve got that off your chest, you can go,’ I said, ‘I’m not Mr. O’Rossa nor am I Lord Gilderdale. Good-day.’

But the worthy representative of Messrs. Doping and Bleeder was not so easily disposed of.

‘Now look ’ere,’ he said, ‘Hi believe that it’s hall a bloomin’ ’oax, if yer aint Wiscount Gilderdale, an’ yer hain’t the Ho Roozer ’oo the blazes are yer?’

At this stage of the proceedings I opened the door and beckoned O.P. 281, who was lounging against the wall of the Town Hall opposite, to advance.

‘I give this person into custody,’ I began, but this proved sufficient, the man from D. and B.’s had fled with unprecedented speed, and so after pouring palm oil into the ever-ready hand of the worthy officer, I went upstairs.

I found the other three gazing anxiously at the clock, which pointed to a quarter to one, and appeared to be advancing terribly quickly.

‘Hadn’t we better call a cab,’ said the Pilot; ‘supposing the oof does turn up about five to, we shall have to drive to the bank before we can go to the Proctor.’

‘Yes, my aunt, I’d never thought of that,’ said Reggie, ‘It’ll take fully another minute and a quarter, say even one and a half, and minutes are exceptionally precious just now.’

At this juncture the Corker, who was as excited as anybody, rushed breathlessly into the room and gasped, ‘The postman ’as just left Thomas,’ me lord, an’ ’e’ll be ’ere in a minute.’

‘No, by Jingo, that’s ripping,’ cried Freddy, ‘we must be getting off then,’ and as he spoke we all rushed downstairs together.

While we were picking our caps out of the collection in the hall, the Pilot, who always acts the part of Job’s comforter on these occasions, remarked slowly, ‘I say, what shall we do if the draft doesn’t come?’

‘We shan’t do anything, we shall be done,’ I said.

‘Well, anyhow, here’s the postman and we shall know our fate,’ put in Freddy running to the door, as footsteps shuffled on the pavement outside. He threw it open, and clutched a packet of letters from the hands of the postman, and then for the first time for many a long day, he fearlessly tore open a long blue envelope, extracting a letter which he dropped on the floor, and a cheque for thirty pounds, which he carefully examined.

We then got into Morgan’s hansom and drove at an alarming speed to the Bank, but to our horror we found the doors closed when we got there, and the grey-haired man, who was sweeping the steps outside, informed us, what we ought to have remembered, that the bank shuts at one o’clock on Thursdays, and it was just striking the hour on Carfax.

‘Gloucester,’ shrieked Freddy, as we bundled into the cab, and shot down the Corn at a fearful rate in the direction of Gluggins. The black clock over the archway pointed to four minutes past as we got out, I clutching the draft, while Freddy waited in the cab, discussing the prospects of the National with Morgan through the trap in the roof.

The J.P. received us with a frown, and remarked coldly, ‘Punctuality is the politeness of princes, Mr. Arlington.’

‘I am afraid we put our trust in postmen, not princes,’ replied Reggie; ‘and ours was late this morning; however, if you wouldn’t mind changing this cheque, sir, we’re ready to pay you.’

‘Really, sir, your conduct in this matter is most surprising,’ said the Proctor; ‘first you come here unpunctually, and now you offer me a large cheque on behalf of yourself and your companions, whom I am afraid are no better than you are.’

‘But the bank is closed,’ put in Reggie.

‘How do you mean the bank is closed, Mr. Arlington?’

‘It’s Thursday, sir,’ chimed in the Pilot.

‘Well, Mr. Meredith, I don’t see, if the bank closes at one o’clock, why you didn’t go there before.’

‘But Freddy’s--I mean Lord Gilderdale’s--cheque didn’t arrive till one o’clock,’ said Reggie.

‘I fail to understand what connection Lord Gilderdale has with this matter,’ said the Proctor.

‘Oh,’ said Reggie, ‘none of us had any money just at present, but we knew Gilderdale expected a cheque from his solicitors this morning, and he promised to lend us a sovereign each.’

‘Oh, then, I am really fining Lord Gilderdale for your delinquencies; this is a very fine situation, Mr. Arlington,’ said the Proctor, with a nearer approach to geniality than we had hitherto seen.

‘Well, sir, hardly that,’ I put in; ‘you see all three of us really are expecting remittances of our own as we told you this morning, but as Lord Gilderdale’s arrived before any of ours he very kindly lent us three pounds.’

‘Very well then, gentlemen,’ said the Proctor, ‘I don’t know that this arrangement is quite regular, or that it would exactly meet with the approval of the Vice-Chancellor, but after all you have produced the amount of your fines, and it is no business of mine to enquire how you obtained that amount. I am sorry to say that I believed at first that your slight unpunctuality was due to disrespect, and that you were trying to do what I believe the present generation would call “pulling my leg” over these cheques, but I see that I misjudged you, and shall ask you to bring the money at ten to-morrow. Good morning, Mr. Arlington; good morning, gentlemen, good morning,’ and so saying the little man collapsed into his arm-chair, while we departed on our way more or less rejoicing.

Freddy, to whom we communicated the result of the interview, soothed our consciences with the very plausible, if somewhat immoral, argument:

‘It don’t do to give that sort of bird too much truth all in a lump, he ain’t accustomed to it; besides, if you start bringin’ him up on it, he’ll always expect it.’

On our return to 129 St. Aldate’s we took Squiff to task severely for daring to dispose of his own silver candlesticks on the previous day; as Freddy remarked, ‘What are things coming to when a man can do as he likes with his own property?’

‘I know where things are going to,’ responded Squiff, ‘and that is to Ranger’s in Beerage Street, I’ve had a breezy time lately; thank heaven term is nearly over.’

‘Ditto, ditto,’ remarked the Pilot mournfully; ‘if one looks back at the end of any term, there always seem to be so many things which one might have done and hasn’t; and such a lot of entirely unnecessary things which have come off most successfully. When I remember that, out of 751 allotted pages of Cook’s Commentary on Habakkuk, I have read exactly 57, the hollowness of life comes upon me with crushing reality.’

‘Poor old Pilot,’ laughed Squiff, ‘he’s got “the recollections” badly.’

‘I shall shortly have “the Collections” much worse,’ replied the Pilot.

‘Thank goodness,’ remarked Reggie fervently, ‘that terminal reports are not sent home to our “parents or guardians” from this University; what awful shocks they’d get.’

‘A printed record of gate-sconces and fines during residence should be given to every one on their departure, and the number of windows broken by the future B.A. should be certified by the Provost,’ I said.

‘Or even better,’ replied the Pilot, ‘a record of theatres attended, with musical comedies marked in red, should be sent to every Dean at the end of each term, by the theatre people.’

‘Great Scott, what revelations there’d be; why, some of the most respectable people would lose their characters at once. Poor old de Beresford, who went six times to “San Toy” and seven to “Florodora,” is supposed to be a model character.’ This from Reggie.

‘Chiefly,’ I remarked, ‘because he never cuts the Dean and always pays the Treasurer “the exact amount of his battels, not requiring change,” see College Rules.’

‘If we could all acquire good reputations as easily, how happy we should be,’ murmured the Pilot pensively; ‘somehow I never have been able to get the authorities to take me seriously.’

‘You must start by taking yourself seriously,’ replied Freddy, ‘but it all shows how little our Dons really know about us. Look at old von Graussman, noisy and addicted to beer, but hard-working and conscientious. His character among the Dons is “lazy, rowdy, and conscienceless”: you know after a row he’s always sent for first. Then take, as I said before, de Beresford, or Accrington, who conceals behind a constant attendance at early chapel and a habit of going about with a logic book in his hand, the most villainous and demoniacal mind and a rooted hatred of all in authority; he’s at the bottom of most ructions in College.’

‘It’s quite true,’ I said, ‘I am afraid on the whole we’re a bad and unvirtuous lot.’

‘Looking back on the past term, I see,’ remarked the Pilot pointing out of window, ‘a blue haze over everything; I can dimly descry several theatres, three twenty-firsters, many large dinners, four Saturday nights, and a couple of outings to town; these, with a slight admixture of lectures and a row in College, constitutes the employment of most of us for the last term; one or two have had schools, but for the rest this is “le monde ou l’on s’amuse.”’

‘True, O King,’ said Squiff, ‘but I am going to turn you all out now, as I’ve got to pack. I’ve got leave to go down to-morrow: I suppose, by-the-bye, I shall see you all in town on Saturday at the Rugger Match.’

‘If not at it, at least afterwards,’ I said; ‘we’ll say the Royal Leicester for choice, I think, and supper at--?’

‘We can settle that later; you must go now,’ said Squiff hastily, and so we departed, promising to speed the O’Rossa on his way at the station. The chronicles of the Rugger Match, and what happened after it, and before it, and how we all got to it, require a fresh chapter and a new pen.

VI.

RUGGER NIGHT.

It was Friday, the day before the Rugger Match, and every one was considering how to get away, as the College Collections were going on all the morning, and the match began at two o’clock. Those who had been in the Schools, of course, had no difficulty in getting leave; but the excuses offered by the rest were more numerous than truthful. The number of dentists with whom urgent appointments had been made was simply phenomenal, while several men had relatives who had chosen that exact day to leave for the Riviera, or to return from South Africa. The rush by the 12.52, which arrived almost in time for the match, was unprecedented. Freddy, who had been in for a Viva that morning, arrived at the station just before the train started, with a shirt in his coat pocket, and two ties and a collar rolled up in a copy of the _Daily Mail_. He also brought two bags stuffed with unnecessary things, bulging and unlocked; he is, I think, the most untidy person in Oxford. The Pilot, Reggie, de Beresford, Accrington and I were waiting for him on the platform; and de B. had just offered five to one against his turning up, but, unfortunately no one had taken him, owing to Freddy’s known unpunctuality. We secured by the use of palm-oil, a carriage to ourselves, and played poker on the way up. We finished soon after Reading, and then the Pilot, who had been in an utterly penniless condition for two days previously, explained for our benefit how he had secured the necessary funds for this expedition.

‘You know,’ he began, ‘that picture “The Golden Dream,” by Dicksee; well, I bought that at Gill and Manser’s in the Corn, when I came up, and it cost me four guineas. Since then the value of the thing has gone up, and I got nearly seven pounds for it when I sold it to Pickington and Bluster. So I kept the fiver for this little trip; and sent the other people something on account.’

‘How did you know the thing would go up?’ inquired Freddy.

‘I didn’t,’ replied the Pilot. ‘But I knew it wouldn’t go down.’

On our arrival at Paddington we separated for various destinations: Freddy and I drove straight to Queen’s to meet Squiff who had been up overnight, and found the match had already started; so we made for our seats and proceeded to enjoy the game. It was an excellent fight, but resulted in a draw, which I always consider most unsatisfactory. However, the last ten minutes were so hard fought, and the relief so great, that Squiff, when the whistle was blown, out of pure joy planted his fist through the topper of an elderly and portly person with a gold chain, who was sitting in front; the old boy (who had been dancing on one leg and gurgling ‘Cambridge’ loudly) took no notice, but continued to yell, so we left him, and squeezed our way out. I got into a cab with Freddy and Squiff, and drove off to the ‘Cabin’ for tea.

‘Poor old Verimisti, who came to town with me yesterday, isn’t up yet,’ Squiff informed us; ‘he was very tired last night, didn’t arrive at the ‘Knavesmire’ till 4.30 a.m., and then gave the cabby sixpence and expected him to be satisfied. I had to come down in jimmies, pay the cabby, and help him to disembark. When I looked him up this morning he was having his fourth Laager, and at the mere mention of ham he turned a rich yellow.’

‘I gather, we’re all dining at the ‘Sphere’ at 7.30,’ I said, ‘we shall be the old crew plus Verimisti (if he’s well enough to come) and de Beresford. Is Fatty up?’

‘No,’ answered Freddy, ‘Fatty’s got a wealthy uncle in town who insisted on seeing the Bodleian and James’ Gardens this afternoon; but he’s going to shunt the old man at five, and coming up ready dressed by the 5.50.’

‘I shall go back and unpack after tea,’ I said, ‘where are the others staying?’

‘We’re at the Knavesmire,’ replied Squiff, ‘but von Graussman, and the Pilot and Reggie are at the Haverstock, while de Beresford and Accrington are doing themselves proud at the Great Trafalgar.’

The Cabin was crowded, but after some time we got a table, but no chairs, so I leaned against the wall, while Freddy sat on Squiff’s knee. This seemed to cause some surprise, until we found ourselves obliged to give our only seat to a lady who was standing, and as we couldn’t sit on the floor we left hurriedly and tealess. Two shillings-worth all round at the American bar at the ‘Cri’ seemed to revive us wonderfully, and after this it was time to dress, so we hurried home to the Knavesmire. When we had finished we found Verimisti painfully dressing, assisted by the boots, and looking very yellow about the gills.

‘Oh! Freddy,’ he cried when he saw us, ‘I have my tongue so like sulphur, and have my twelfth laager just drunk, and still thirsty am I!’

We both laughed most unfeelingly, and after he had bathed his aching brow in cold water, led him gently downstairs, and, having packed ourselves into two hansoms, made for the Sphere, which we reached, according to our invariable custom, ten minutes late.

We found the rest of the party already assembled in the big hall, and made our way to a table for ten which had been reserved for us. The whole family, especially von Graussman, were in a highly excitable state, and the stirring selections of cake-walks and musical comedies that were played by the band caused some of the parties who were dining in the room to perform most extraordinary antics. A popular Sousa march was accompanied by clapping of hands, while ‘Sammy’ was sung by the entire company.

‘Well! here’s confusion to the Examiners,’ said Freddy, as he drained his glass after the fish; and when Freddy begins drinking--confusion or otherwise--after the fish, I know what is likely to ensue. Freddy had also just been ploughed in Contracts.

‘To ’Ell mit dem,’ added von Graussman, who had missed Law Prelim. again.

These sentiments having been duly honoured, we turned our attention to ‘Ponichets de Volaille,’ which Verimisti, who had got through a quart of moselle cup on his own, insisted on eating with a table-spoon.

‘There’ll be quite a clearance next term, I’m afraid,’ remarked Squiff; ‘such a number of the Unregenerate have failed in Law Prelim. or Mods., and they’re sure to be sent down.’

‘Yes, I was gone to drive mit a gountry vicar, next week,’ remarked von Graussman pensively, ‘and, oh! but the dullnesses vos ’orrible. Dere vos only von publig-house vour miles away, and dat they closes at ten hours. But,’ he added triumphantly, ‘I vos not a Brotestant, and I do not rise for der service at eight hours morning.’

‘Well, anyhow, we’ll make things hum in the summer,’ said Freddy; ‘it’ll be my last term, and Squiff’s and Reggie’s and several others, so we must create an impression, and a good one if possible, before we leave the ’Varsity.’

‘Don’t try and make an impression on the pavement outside the Royal Leicester to-night,’ said de Beresford mockingly, ‘it’s asphalt and very hard. I know,’ he added feelingly, ‘I’ve tried it.’

‘Anyhow, let’s make this a record night,’ said Accrington, who bubbled with excitement.

This sentiment met with a cordial reception. Verimisti rose carefully from the table and commenced a long and rambling speech which was ended by the arrival of what the Pilot somewhat coarsely calls ‘The Settler.’ Its real name is Ponche Romaine, and it acts as an appetiser, enabling one to begin again hungry on the second part of the dinner. This proceeded somewhat more rapidly, as we found it was getting late. We honoured several toasts, including ‘Conspuez les dons’ from Verimisti, ‘Hoch der Kaiser!’ from von Graussman, and ‘The Unregenerate’ from Freddy, and then rather unsteadily the party made its way to the cloak-room, and got into its outer garments.

A slight sensation was caused by Squiff kissing the girl who sold buttonholes in the entrance hall, while Verimisti’s attempt to embrace the stately official outside caused that personage both surprise and annoyance.

The arrival of the party at the Leicester was accompanied by much noise, and loud cheers on the part of several other parties who were also disembarking. As we went up the steps, somebody clutched my arm, and turning round I found it was Blandford of Barrabas’.

‘Hullo,’ I said, ‘are you coming in?’

‘That’s the question,’ he replied. It appeared that he had already been thrown out, but wanted to come in with our party again. ‘If I cram my hat down on my nose, and button up my coat, I’m sure they’ll pass me; I only want you to say I belong to you.’

‘I’ll try,’ I said dubiously, and we walked on to the barrier where I presented our ticket for Box 10 and our party passed in, accompanied by the audible comments of one of the officials on the size of the party. De Beresford, who came last, was stopped and had to take a five-bob ticket, for, as the man said, ‘Hi’ve passed hin nine gents for that borx already, and hits only meant to ’old six or seving.’

The scene within, well, everybody must know it; the ‘five-bob ring’ was absolutely full, ’Varsity men and members of the tender sex being nearly equal in number.

As we passed along to our box a person with a purple nose and a battered top-hat was singing about the brokers, and this was about all we saw of the performance that evening. We left our hats and coats in the box and then sallied out in a body in search of spirits both kindred and otherwise.

Owing to the very crowded state of the promenade we were unable to hold together, and I soon found myself sandwiched between Verimisti and von Graussman bound for an adjacent bar. As we were turning into the desired haven the Italian observed a small notice saying ‘No ladies served in this bar,’ and immediately sheered off with a pained expression on his very expressive face.

‘We are not ladies, but all the identical we cannot without female society be,’ he remarked in an injured tone and hustled us rapidly on to the passage at the further end of the promenade, where a uniformed official gave us tickets outside the big bar.

This was a scene of indescribable confusion, and as we entered two porters came forward leading between them a well-known member of the Cambridge team. He was very talkative, but his eloquence did not appear to move his captors in the least degree, possibly because none of his remarks were at all intelligible. After them there followed several more Cambridge blues and an elderly gentleman with a bucolic face who appeared to be very irate. The procession passed us with some speed, but we subsequently found the talkative Cantab singing a song on the floor of another bar, and discovered that this was due to the influence of the bucolic gentleman who was an old ’Varsity man and a legal luminary of very great brilliancy.

The front of the bar itself was hidden by two lines of ’Varsity men, nearly all asking for different things but all at the same time. However, I soon found a suitable inlet, and all was going well with us when one of the fair nymphs behind the bar unfortunately shot von Graussman in the nose with a lemonade or soda cork, producing an entirely unexpected effect.

The German fell into the lap of a lady sitting close behind exclaiming ‘Ach? I vos mortified.’ Her cloak covered his head for a moment, but extricating himself he tendered her his admission-ticket, and begged her in very broken English to let him out of the cloak-room. To his impassioned appeal she replied very volubly in German, and an affecting scene ensued when he fell upon her neck, and loudly claimed her as his long-lost mother. Within the space of two minutes a large and noisy crowd had gathered round, and were hoarsely cheering, so it was some time before Verimisti and I could push our way through. When we did get to the front, the lady was assuring von Graussman in a penetrating whisper, that though she was not his mother, she was willing to be his wife.

Von Graussman, whose impressionable heart was once captured in Buda Pesth and only redeemed at considerable expense, sheered off immediately, and confidentially informed us afterwards that ‘she vos a dam dangerous woman.’

Having made a vain attempt to approach the bar again, we fought our way back to the promenade, and discovered that ‘Mephisto’ was about to loop the loop. As everyone was anxious to see this, we regained our box, which we found crowded to suffocation, and by standing on chairs at the back got a view of the exciting item. Freddy, who having leant against the electric bell and ordered drinks round, had gone away and forgotten to pay, could not be found; so Verimisti shelled out, and after drinking his health, we moved out again. I may mention that this was the only item on the programme of which I have any recollection, as soon afterwards all became dim for a short time, and I only revived in the further bar with Freddy and Accrington beside me. In the meanwhile it appears that Squiff and de Beresford, both of whom were ‘among the breakers,’ had made a determined attempt to throw one of the chuckers-out downstairs, and were now repenting their mistake in the cool air of Leicester Square; but they subsequently returned in a very dishevelled condition ‘by some secret way known to all but themselves.’

I am told that I had begun to make skilful arrangements for looping the loop with the help of two round topped tables, when a stalwart official requested Squiff and de Beresford to calm me down, which they had succeeded in doing with a handkerchief soaked in soda-water.

As soon as my sight was thoroughly restored we returned to the box, but did not feel well enough to take any interest in the performance.

Moreover, just at that moment we were alarmed by thunderous crashes on the door which Blandford hastily opened, and Verimisti rushed in followed by a heated and indignant official; he rushed to the front of the box and began to climb out, endeavouring to drop into the stalls, explaining meanwhile that he ‘must escape dese awful mens in uneform who put themselves upon my nerve.’

He became very indignant when Accrington caught him by the collar, and, in his subsequent struggles to escape, his dress coat was ripped up astern from top to bottom and part of his braces gave way.

The functionary who had chased him demanded his immediate expulsion, but when Reggie explained that he belonged to our box he retired peacefully after accepting a gin-cocktail that had grown upon the floor by some mysterious means.

As the door closed upon the officer, the voice of Fatty was heard from underneath a pile of coats in the corner.

‘I don’t know what is happening,’ he remarked plaintively, ‘but if somebody will fetch me an Angostura and ginger-beer and pay for it, I shall be quite happy for half-an-hour.’

‘Don’t be an ass,’ said Freddy, who was steadying himself by a clothes peg, ‘who is to fetch you anything; besides, if they did, do you suppose they’d get it here in safety?’

‘Yes,’ put in Blandford, ‘the person in pink plush with white extremities lost seven drinks off his tray on the way to the next box just now.’

Here a lady, whose only known name was Girlie, and who had been dumped down in the box by some member of our party who had completely forgotten her, demanded a sherry and bitters.

‘Who’s that?’ remarked Freddy unsteadily, as he let go one hat peg and caught another after two vain efforts. ‘Whashedoinere?’

‘Can’t imagine,’ replied Fatty; and then Freddy having incautiously lost his grip on his sole means of support and fallen against the bell, the conversation was terminated by the appearance of the waiter.

‘This lady,’ said Accrington to the waiter, ‘wants to stand us drinks all round.’

Girlie then rose and commenced a protest which was more forcible than polite; but Accrington waved her aside with a regal gesture.

‘I daresay you didn’t mean to say so m’dear,’ he added, ‘but there are somanyqueerpeopleretnight.’

After the offended Girlie had left the box, Fatty was just proceeding to order the terrible mixture dear to his heart, when Freddy addressed the waiter as ‘Puddle darling,’ and enquired if he was going to Hardtopp-on-Sands for the mixed bathing.

The waiter’s reply was to slam the door from the outside, and Fatty’s ginger-beered Angostura vanished into the dim and distant future.

At this moment the last turn concluded, and the orchestra gave tongue to the National Anthem, which was caught up vigorously in all parts of the house.

It took us quite a quarter of an hour to collect our party, but when this had been done we made hastily for Jacques’ to make sure of getting something to eat and drink before closing time. Blandford, who belongs to the New Lyric, invited the whole party to sup there, but I dissuaded him; and as we afterwards found that the Club was closed indefinitely, my wisdom was justified. Crossing the Circus we lost Reggie; who subsequently scandalised the habitués of the Great Trafalgar by reappearing about 11.30 next morning in evening dress with an improbable tale of a cousin from Peckham Rye, who had taken him in for the night.

At the entrance to the Restaurant, Freddy sighted an awful looking object with an eye-glass, which subsequently caused him much perturbation. An appeal to the presiding genius of the lobster bar to have the offensive person removed proved unavailing, and so we made for the supper room endeavouring to forget his glassy eye and pinched waist. Since it was no longer as early as it had been, the room was nearly full, each table being occupied by one or more young gentlemen enjoying assorted confectionery. Before we had time to do anything a fight between two ladies, late of Hamburg, but now of Aphrodite Mansions, according to the waiter, engrossed our attention. The subject of dispute was a weak-looking little man with pince-nez who gazed helplessly at the combatants, evidently wondering if his fate would be that of the baby in the case adjudicated by the late Solomon of Jerusalem! The end came quite suddenly, for a herculean official unobstrusively removed the two ladies, leaving the poor little man to consume a double portion of rum omelette in solitude.

By running two tables together we managed to keep our party united, and an invaluable waiter who appeared to know our wants by instinct, dumped down several dishes of devilled kidneys and two magnums of the best, which were consumed as though none of us had had a meal for a week. We were doing very nicely, thank you, and Freddy and Fatty had already fallen into a comatose condition when the room was electrified by the appearance of Ironsides of Tydvil carrying the offensive eye-glass person upside down by one leg. Several waiters clung unheeded to his trousers, and the manager followed giving vent to frenzied ejaculations. The creature’s disengaged leg had only just collided with the head waiter’s face, and swept three glasses off a buffet when the lights went out, and simultaneously a piece of grilled haddock found a lodgement in my eye. Those in authority raised a melancholy chorus of ‘time, gentlemen, please,’ with a foreign accent, and Freddy, having tucked a magnum under each arm, led the procession to the door, supported by Accrington with the bill pinned on to his coat-tail.

The subsequent adventures of the party were too varied to be described in full, with the exception of Fatty, whom we sent straight back to the hotel in a hansom, and who was discovered by the charwoman at 6.30 asleep under the billiard table.

The party that breakfasted at the Great Trafalgar next morning about lunch-time was reduced in number and unusually thoughtful; the latter, partly because it is extremely difficult to raise money in London on Sunday, and partly owing to the frequent lubrication on the previous evening. Freddy had already left by the Holyhead express for Coffington Castle, Co. Down. In the brief message left with the night porter for Squiff, he explained that he had been to see the sunrise from Notting Hill, and had only just had time to fetch his luggage. Von Graussman and de Beresford, who had slept in an hotel in New Oxford Street, left by the Pullman train at 11.0 for Brighton to recruit, as they said they had both had too much pastry the night before. All traces had been entirely lost of Blandford; it is only known that he arrived home three days later with a broken bowler and a couple of ladies’ cloak-room tickets, and went to bed for several days. The rest of us returned to Oxford to pack and go through Vivas. I think I endorse the opinion of Fatty, who afterwards remarked that ‘The wicked flourish like a green bay tree, though they much prefer the dew of Glenlivet to that of Hermon.’

VII.

HOW WE RAGGED THE SUBURBAN.

Owing to the awful scenes on the last night of the ‘Cannibal Girl,’ musical comedies had become exceedingly unpopular with the authorities, and so we had to rely upon the Suburban for what Squiff calls ‘an occasional divarsion.’

It all began with the Fresher’s lunch in Wykeham’s. The Fresher is exceedingly fresh for, well, for a fresher, and his lunch, like the Miller’s daughter, ‘was fresher still.’ The party was a genial one, though, with the exception of Reggie and Accrington, most of the sportsmen present were recruited from circles outside that of the Elect. I regret to say that I arrived last of all, but then I generally do. I don’t think any of the best people would know me now if I came in first to a public function; they’d think it was my double.

When I entered the Fresher’s room I found Lord St. Ronots and another St. Union’s man called Hawkes, Downey of Lichfield, and a certain Italian Count by the name of Imarisa. Reggie and Accrington had also come in, but as they were busily engaged playing different tunes upon the same piano, I do not include them among the respectable people. As we commenced operations upon the inevitable lobster salad, and the Fresher succeeded in inducing his scout, who had three other parties on the staircase, to attend to us for fully two consecutive minutes, St. Ronots remarked that the panto at the Suburban was not covered with dust to any appreciable extent, which for St. Ronots, and still more for the Suburban, is a great concession. Downey said that he intended going to see the show, and when Reggie in his usual charming way mentioned that I was going with him and several other people, I began to realise that most of the very best would patronise the Suburban that night. We decided to make a circular tour of the ancient and moth-eaten city after lunch for the purpose of beating up recruits, but meanwhile we were perforce constrained to turn our attention to the ‘savoury viands’--as the late W. Shakespeare would probably have said.

There was no lack of incident to vary the monotony of mere eating, for the Fresher persisted in consuming noxious Virginian cigarettes between each dish, while Reggie accompanied every entry of the scout by martial airs upon the piano. It may perhaps be as well to mention that this did not necessitate any exceptional exertion on Reggie’s part, or he would certainly never have done it, but he merely leant back in his chair and played the piano with ease, the dimensions of the Fresher’s apartment being somewhat restricted.

After lunch was over we all went round in a body to St. Union’s and other Colleges in search of joyful souls to join us for the evening’s jaunt, and while passing through the Corn on our way to Thomas’, we met Elgar of King’s and two titled foreigners, who informed us that they were ‘looking for trouble.’ This sounded promising, and so we enlisted their services immediately and invited them to coffee at our digs after dinner. We extended a like invitation to most of the other people we met that afternoon, and then hastened back to the Pilot-House--as Reggie now calls our establishment--to order a festive little dinner.

Our dinner party was a small one. There were only de Beresford, Evelyn, and Farmborough, besides our three selves, but the real fun began when Elgar turned up about half-past seven with an old pair of pyjamas, which he proceeded to don, and then treated us to a wild breakdown, regardless of the surrounding crockery and the unfortunate Mary Ellen, who waited upon us in fear and trembling. As Mrs. McNab often says to the Pilot, ‘It ain’t you three gentlemen what makes all the rampagingses, but it’s them there harum scarum friends of yours,’ which only shows how skilfully we conceal our little weaknesses from the powers below, who are in this case the Dig-Master and his wife. When we reached the coffee stage our little party increased very rapidly. Many of the gentlemen assembled appeared to find coffee insipid, and it was at this juncture that I discovered a bottle of Chartreuse in the cellarette, which I seized with the intention of serving out a few liqueurs, but there was no need for thimble glasses, as Stanhope and Freddy took their allowance in coffee, Squiff mixed his with champagne in equal proportions, while Elgar, who couldn’t find anything smaller, lapped up a half tumbler of the fire-water with much pomp. Finding that the bottle was quite empty I went to the window to see if any more visitors were in sight, and beheld for the first time an enormous array of cabs stretching for quite a healthy distance up and down the High. As the liquid refreshment was completely exhausted and it was growing late, I suggested an adjournment to the Suburban, and we left for that festive old barn in a body, three men in each hansom. On our arrival we soon skipped out and arranged to owe our cab fares, but taking tickets was a slower affair. The ticket office at the Suburban is modelled exactly upon those at railway stations, that is to say, it is placed so as to present the minimum of accessibility with the maximum of draught, but by dint of a little perseverance we eventually obtained two dozen stalls and streamed along the passage to the door of the House. When we got inside we were astonished to find more than a hundred Undergrads, instead of the usual contingent of anything from five to half-a-dozen, and this crowding unfortunately compelled us to divide our party. We exchanged friendly greetings with the various people known to us, and placed Elgar in an unobtrusive seat where he would not readily catch the Manager’s eye, and then prepared to watch the show itself. A most remarkable sort of Sister Anne person made his appearance upon the stage soon after our arrival, and some people who were outside the pale of the Elect assailed him with certain strange missiles, chiefly horticultural specimens, which must have stirred up Woodbine the manager, for immediately there descended upon us a shower of leaflets setting forth that ‘nothing must be thrown upon the stage,’ that ‘bouquets left at the office would be handed on to their destination,’ and that any one guilty of disorderly conduct ‘Would be Instantly Ejected.’ This unfortunate notice had exactly the contrary effect to what was intended, and two Gloucester men near me, who had brought a liberal supply of tangerines, immediately prepared for action. It was patent to the meanest intelligence that trouble was brewing, and Woodbine’s myrmidons closed up their serried ranks adjacent to the door. I noticed that our little party was sadly scattered, but was glad to see that Elgar was surrounded by several most stalwart allies. At this moment Downey, who was sitting in front of me and close to the outside of the House, on the left, rose in his seat and proceeded to conduct the orchestra with a folded programme. Now, though this is a form of amusement by no means uncommon at the Suburban, and not altogether unknown even at the theatre, it is often allowed to pass unnoticed and never evokes anything more than a polite remonstrance, but on this particular occasion the melancholy Woodbine is evidently on the war-path.

He advances to Downey, but instead of requesting him to leave off his peculiar amusement, snatches wildly at the programme itself, and in his anger falls over the men in front of him; then finding his own efforts unavailing, he summons the staff of porters who wear the livery of the establishment, and directs them to eject the self-appointed conductor. As this motley crew advances, and Woodbine himself very cautiously concentrates upon the rear, all the ’Varsity men in that part of the House rise in their places and make it impossible for the mercenaries to reach Downey, who is in the middle of a row, unless they first clear the intervening seats by force. Woodbine, foiled a second time, now summons O.P. 134, an enormous ‘peeler,’ who has been standing just outside the door on the other side of the House. The Bobby advances and endeavours to reach Downey, but is prevented by the men before him, who have resumed their seats, but make an impassable barrier by setting up their legs against the seats in front.

The officer of the law does not attempt to force his way through, but enters the row behind, where the inhabitants are disinterested strangers, and seizes Downey; then meeting with no opposition from the occupants of that row, he grips his victim firmly by the collar, and, pulling him over the back and top of his seat, proceeds to remove him from the House.

But at this moment St. Ronots, who conceals a desperate character beneath a mild and almost saintly exterior, took two flying leaps and caught the Bobby round the neck while Hawkes jerked him neatly off his feet. The gentleman in blue, as I have mentioned before, was of colossal height, and also suitably proportioned, so that his sudden fall brought down and completely demolished two rows of stalls, while some dozen chairs were carried away by a sudden rush of the men behind, who feared the impact of such an Herculean mass.

At this juncture I feared a really serious tumult, which would undoubtedly have ensued but for two reasons. In the first place Downey was seated quite close to the further exit, and, secondly, most of our mightiest men of valour were too far from the scene of action to take a hand. Though, as Accrington afterwards remarked, ‘It’s a cold deal that leaves me out.’

This was a very cold deal, for poor Downey was only a carcase in the grip of the monumental policeman, who soon regained the perpendicular and hustled him out of the auditorium with most creditable speed. The tumult, however, was not quelled in an instant, and Woodbine, who had incautiously anticipated the Bobby’s victory, received a chair-back just amidships, and went down among the dead men, to the detriment of his pince-nez and eternal cigarette. Reggie, having nobly retained his grip on Downey’s leg, was cut off by the sudden and quite unintentional fall of a respected greengrocer, who tumbled off his chair and bore poor Rex to the ground, while Hawkes, who had been endeavouring with Elgar and St. Ronots to release Downey from the grip of the law, was struck violently in the eye by something with the regulation number of features. After these casualties, O.P. 134 got his man out into the entrance, where he and No. 154 mounted guard over him until the Proctor, for whom Woodbine had telegraphed, should arrive.

We could not induce the Bobbies, who were civil enough, to release their prisoner. I tried reasoning with Woodbine, but he perpetually shifted his ground, while his assessment of the probable amount of damage at over forty pounds was so unreasonable that it was useless to attempt to come to terms.

De Beresford, who had disappeared mysteriously, returned very soon with a brandy and soda which he bestowed upon Downey, and then finding all remonstrances with Woodbine quite unavailing, we resumed our seats, St. Ronots, Elgar and everybody who had taken an active part in the fracas, having executed a masterly retreat to their respective Colleges, directly they heard that the Manager had telephoned for the Proctor.

I found a resting place on the wreckage of some stalls beside de Beresford and Evelyn, with Reggie just in front of us, and we sat thus until the familiar face of the most genial of the Proctors, followed by a singularly funereal bull-dog, appeared in the doorway. At this juncture Freddy, Accrington and Stanhope, together with about a couple of score more ’Varsity men, whose faces we knew by sight but not to speak to, departed comfortably and without any undue haste by the extra exit. Most of us however who had perfectly clear consciences sat tight and gave our names to the Proctor, not with any idea of ultimately contributing to the University Chest, but merely as a guarantee of good faith. As soon as we had performed our own particular share of this little formality, Reggie and I with de Beresford left the house in search of our first liquid refreshment, picking up on our way Stanhope and Freddy who had been carefully concealed in the pit. We reached that admirable institution, the Cowley Bowling Club, of which most of us are members, and were enjoying a little well-earned refreshment, when to our amazement the ubiquitous Proctor with the iniquitous bull-dogs appeared in the entrance. Houseman advanced and was about to address Reggie, who was surveying him with no very friendly expression, when the excellent barman appeared suddenly from the back-room and asked the Proctor if he was a member of the Club, which honour he was compelled to disclaim, but expressed a desire to speak with some of the young gentlemen present. The wily barman however asked if Houseman had a warrant to enter the club, and on hearing that he had not, asked him most politely to withdraw at once. The Proctor complied with this request with the best grace possible under the circumstances, but I have seldom seen bull-dogs look more malevolent than Houseman’s two attendants. No, not even when a pair of them tracked me four weary miles on foot only to find that the fair lady with whom I had been sharing a cab at midnight was indeed my second cousin.

Having congratulated ourselves and the barman upon his presence of mind, we finished our drinks and returned to the Suburban, where the show seemed to be going on peacefully. Two bicyclists were chasing one another round and round upon a sloping circular track at a tremendous rate, and whenever they stopped for breath the showman filled in the interval with an explanatory speech.

Unfortunately this same showman was an extremely sour looking person and presented a most remarkable appearance. He had a brown bowler hat and trousers, green waistcoat, and black expression, which ‘tout ensemble’ constrained St. Ronots to cheer--though not very lustily--at the wrong moment, thereby greatly enraging the human kaleidoscope, who signalled to Woodbine to remove the Hereditary Legislator from the House. That individual advanced with some circumspection and requested St. Ronots peremptorily to ‘go outside quietly,’ but our friend who had really done nothing wrong, not unnaturally declined to comply with his request, and so the Manager was compelled to fall back upon his oleaginous smile and the Proctor. That gentleman came across to the Hereditary Legislator and exchanged a word or two with him and then appeared to metaphorically put Woodbine through the mangle, for he departed sadly to the Temperance Bar for another cigarette while the Proctor went quietly home. For the remaining hour or so, we really watched the performance, which was rather diverting, and leaving in a body at about eleven o’clock, finished the evening in our rooms.

On Monday morning, in response to urgent notices from the Junior Proctor, a large party assembled at the leprous hour of nine in his rooms at James’. We noticed, as we entered the ante-room, the Assistant Manager of the Suburban Palace of Varieties clad in the usual check cycling-suit and bowler hat, besides several promising looking criminals who were obviously witnesses in various cases coming up for investigation. After exchanging greetings with Squiff and Accrington, Reggie and I selected the two most comfortable chairs and sat down to wait, while the party were passed in one by one to the torture-chamber. More and more people continued to arrive, including Bob Parclane, arrayed in the inevitable eye-glass and check-coat, who was conducting a party accused of throwing bottles out of a window at an elderly citizen. There were also two gentlemen of our acquaintance, who had been so indiscreet as to empty the contents of a syphon upon some wayfarer’s head below their windows in Unity.

After waiting an interminable time, during which the crowd at the door never seemed to grow less, I was ushered in and questioned, but on disclaiming any share in the riot, was politely bowed out. Reggie, who followed me, could not truthfully say this, and was noted down for further reference, and a share in the damages. By this time it was ten o’clock, and we hurried off to join St. Ronots, who was waiting to breakfast with us at the O.U.D.S., and to take tickets for the next musical comedy, which was nothing less than the ever popular ‘Cinq Demi-Vierges.’ In the course of the day every one who had attended the Proctorial Levée received a notice regretting that the J.P. must ask us to pay a pound apiece by that evening, which we accordingly did. It was suggested that an indignation meeting of the shareholders in Bridgeley, Houseman & Co., Proctors and General Collectors, should be summoned to demand a statement of accounts, and Reggie, who had just paid four golden sovereigns into the concern, waxed most eloquent upon the subject, but nothing ever came of it. As the Pilot cheerfully remarked on his return from taking a pound share, ‘It is indeed wonderful how we put up with our Pastors and Masters.’

VIII.

AN EIGHTS’ WEEK.