"That's right, Cripps," cried Overshute; "give it to him, Cripps! Why,
he starves himself! Ever since he took his first and second, and got
his fellowship and took orders, he hasn't known what a good dinner is.
He keeps all the fasts in the calendar, and the vigils of the
festivals, and he ought to have an appetite for the feasts; but he
overstays his time, and can't keep anything on his stomach!"
"Now, Russel, as usual!" Hardenow answered, with a true and pleasant
smile; "what a fine fellow you would be, if you only had moderation!
But I see that you want to talk to Cripps; and I have several men
waiting in the quad. Where is my beaver? Oh! here, to be sure! Will
you come with us? No, of course you can't. Will you dine in hall with
me?"
"Of course, I won't. But come you and dine with me on Sunday--the only
day you dare eat a bit--and my mother will do her best to strengthen
you, build you up, establish you, for a fortnight of macaroni. Will
you come?"
"Yes, yes, to-morrow--to be sure--I have many things I want to say to
you. Good-bye for the present; good-bye, Master Cripps."
"There goes one of the finest fellows, of all the fine fellows yet
ruined by rubbish!" With these words Russel Overshute ran to the
window and looked out. A dozen or more of young men were waiting, the
best undergraduates of the college, for Mr. Hardenow to lead them for
fifteen miles, without a word.
"Well, every man to his liking," said Russel; "but that would be about
the last of mine. Now, Cripps, most patient of carriers, are you ready
for me to go on or not?"
"I hath a been thinking about my horse. How greedy o' me to be ating
like this"--for the thought of so much fasting had made him set to
again, while he got the chance--"drinking likewise of college
ale--better I have tasted, but not often--and all this time, as you
might say, old Dobbin easing of his dainty foot, with no more nor a
wisp of hay to drag through his water--if he hath any."
"An excruciating picture, Cripps, drawn by too vivid a conscience.
Dobbin is as happy as he can be, with twenty-five horses to talk to
him. At this very moment I behold him munching choicest of white oats
and chaff."
"Your Worship can see through a stone-wall, they say; but they only
keeps black oats at the Cross just now, along of a contract the
landlord have made--and a blind sort of bargain, to my thinking----"
"Never mind that--let him have black oats then, or Irish oats, or no
oats at all. But do you wish to hear my story out, or will you leave
it till next Saturday?"
"Sir, you might a' seen as I was waiting, until such time as you plaze
to go on wi' un."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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