Eric; Or, Little by LittleFarrar, F. W. (Frederic William)
General
Eric; Or, Little by Little
Farrar, F. W. (Frederic William)
Schools -- Fiction
He led to a little low public-house, whence tipsy songs were booming,
and tapped at a side door three times. As they looked in they saw some
sailors boozing in a dirty tap-room, and enveloped in tobacco-smoke.
The side-door was opened, and a cunning wicked-looking man held up a
light to see who they were.
“Hollo, Billy,” said Wildney, confidentially, “all serene; give us two
bottles of beer--on tick, you know.”
“Yessir--d’reckly,” said the man, with a hateful twinkle of the eyes.
“So you’re out for a spree,” he continued, winking in a knowing way.
“Won’t you walk into the back-parlor while I get them?” And he showed
them into a dingy horrid room behind the house, stale with smoke, and
begrimed with dust.
Eric was silent and disgusted, but Wildney seemed quite at home. The
man soon returned with the beer. “Wouldn’t you like a glass of summat
now, young gen’lmen?” he asked, in an insinuating way.
“No, Billy! don’t jabber--we must be off. Here open the door.”
“Stop, I’ll pay,” said Eric. “What’s the damage?”
“Three shilling, sir,” said the man. “Glad to see a new customer, sir.”
He pocketed the money, and showed them, out, standing to look after them
with a malicious leer as they disappeared, and jerking his left thumb
over his shoulder.
“Faugh!” said Eric, taking a long breath as they got out again into the
moonlight, “what a poisonous place! Good gracious, Charlie, who
introduced you there?”
“Oh, I don’t think much of going _there_” said Wildney, carelessly; “we
go every-week almost.”
“We! who?”
“Oh, Brigson and a lot of us. We have a club there which we call the
‘Anti-muffs,’ and that’s our smoking-room.”
“And is that horrid beast the landlord?”
“Yes; he was an old school-servant, and there’s no harm in him that I
know of.”
But Eric only “phewed” again two or three times, and thought of Montagu.
Suddenly Wildney clutched him by the arm, and pulled him into the deep
shadow of a porch, whispering, in a low tone, “Look!”
Under a lamp-post, directly opposite them, stood Mr. Rose! He had heard
voices and footsteps a moment before, and, puzzled at their sudden
cessation in the noiseless street, he was looking round.
“We must run for it,” whispered Wildney hastily, as Mr. Rose approached
the porch; and the two boys took to their heels, and scampered away as
hard as they could, Eric helping on Wildney by taking his hand, and
neither of them looking behind. They heard Mr. Rose following them at
first, but soon distanced him, and reached a place where two roads met,
either of which would lead to the school.
“We won’t go by the road; I know a short cut by the fields. What fun!”
said Wildney, laughing.
“What an audacious little monkey you are; you know all sorts of dodges,”
said Eric.
They had no time to talk, but with, a speed winged by fear got to the
school, sprang on the buttress beneath the window, effected their
entrance, and vanished after replacing the bar--Eric to his study, and
Wildney to his dormitory.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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