Have you?'
'Some women in front of me just now were-evidently discussing
him. I heard "How shocking!" and "Disgraceful!"'
Peak's eyes flashed, and he exclaimed in a voice of wrath:
'Besotted idiots! How I wish I were in Walsh's position! How I
should enjoy standing up before the crowd of fools and seeing their
fear of me! But I couldn't keep it to myself; I should give in to
the temptation to call them blockheads and jackasses.'
Earwaker was amused at his friend's vehemence. He sympathised
with it, but had an unyouthful sobriety in the expression of his
feelings.
'Most likely he despises them far too much to be disturbed by
what they think of him. But, I say, isn't it desperately comical
that one human being can hate and revile another because they think
differently about the origin of the universe? Couldn't you roar
with laughter when you've thought over it for a moment? "You be
damned for your theory of irregular verbs!" is nothing to it.' And
he uttered his croak of mirth, whilst Peak, with distorted
features, laughed in rage and scorn.
They had crossed the open space in front of the College
buildings, and were issuing into the highway, when a voice very
unlike those that were wont to sound within the academic precincts
(or indeed in the streets of Kingsmill) made sudden demand upon
Peak's attention.
'Thet you, Godwin? Thoughts I, it must be 'im! 'Ow goes it, my
bo-oy? You 'ardly reckonise me, I dessay, and I couldn't be sure as
it was you till I'd 'ed a good squint at yer. I've jest called
round at your lodgin's, and they towld me as you was at the
Collige.'
He who thus accosted the student, with the most offensive purity
of Cockney accent, was a man of five-and-forty, dressed in a new
suit of ready-made tweeds, the folding crease strongly marked down
the front of the trousers and the coat sleeves rather too long. His
face bore a strong impress of vulgarity, but at the same time had a
certain ingenuousness, a self-absorbed energy and simplicity, which
saved it from being wholly repellent; the brow was narrow, the eyes
small and bright, and the coarse lips half hid themselves under a
struggling reddish growth. In these lineaments lurked a family
resemblance to Godwin Peak, sufficient to support a claim of
kindred which at this moment might have seemed improbable. At the
summons of recognition Godwin stood transfixed; his arms fell
straight, and his head drew back as if to avoid a blow. For an
instant he was clay colour, then a hot flush broke upon his
cheeks.
'I shan't be able to go with you,' he said, in a thick, abrupt
voice, addressing Earwaker but not regarding him. 'Good-bye!'
The other offered his hand and, without speaking, walked
away.
'Prize-dye at the Collige, they tell me,' pursued Godwin's
relative, looking at a cluster of people that passed. 'What 'ave
you took?'
'One or two class-prizes,' replied the student, his eyes on the
ground. 'Shall we walk to my lodgings?'
'I thought you might like to walk me over the show. But pr'aps
you're in a 'urry?'
'No, no. But there's nothing particular to see. I think the
lecture-rooms are closed by now.'
'Oo's the gent as stands there?—the figger, I mean.'
'Sir Job Whitelaw, founder of the College.'
'Job, eh? And was you a-goin' 'ome to yer tea, Godwin?'
'Yes.'
'Well, then, look 'ere, 'spose we go to the little shop
opposyte—nice little plyce it looks. I could do a cup o' tea
myself, and we can 'ev a quite confab. It's a long time since we'ed
a talk together. I come over from Twybridge this mornin'; slep'
there last night, and saw yer mother an' Oliver. They couldn't give
me a bed, but that didn't mike no matter; I put up at the Norfolk
Harms—five-an-six for bed an' breakfast. Come along, my bo-oy; I
stand treat.'
Godwin glanced about him. From the College was approaching what
seemed to be a formal procession; it consisted of Bruno Chilvers,
supported on either hand by ladies and followed by an admiring
train.
'You had better come to my lodgings with me, uncle,' said the
young man hurriedly, moving forward.
'No, no; I won't be no expense to you, Godwin, bo-oy. And I 'ave
a reason for wantin' to go to the little shop opposyte.'
Already several collegians had passed, giving Peak a nod and
scanning his companion; a moment's delay and Chilvers would be upon
him. Without another word, Godwin moved across the broad street to
the place of refreshment which his uncle had indicated, and whither
Earwaker had preceded them. It was a pastry-cook's, occasionally
visited by the alumni of Whitelaw. In the rear of the shop a little
room offered seats and tables, and here, Godwin knew, Earwaker
would be found.
'Let us go up-stairs,' he said, leading to a side entrance.
'There's a quieter room.'
'Right you are!'
The uncle—his name was Andrew Peak—paused to make a survey of
the premises. When he entered, his scrutiny of the establishment
was close, and he seemed to reflect with interest upon all he saw.
The upper room was empty; a long table exhibited knives and forks,
but there were no signs of active business. Andrew pulled a
bell-rope; the summons was answered by an asthmatic woman, who
received an order for tea, toast, 'watercreases', and sundry other
constituents of a modest meal.
'Come 'ere often, Godwin?' inquired Andrew, as he stood by the
window and mused.
'Now and then, for a bun.'
'Much custom from your show over the wye?'
'Not so much as a better place would have.'
'Young gents don't live at the Collige, they tell me?'
'No, there's no residence.'
'So naturally they want a plyce where they can 'ev a nibble,
somewheres 'andy?'
'Yes. We have to go further into the town for a decent
dinner.'
'Jest what I thought!' exclaimed Andrew, slapping his leg. 'With
a establishment like that opposyte, there'd ought to be a
medium-sized Spiers & Pond at this 'ere street corner for any
man as knows 'is wye about. That's my idea, Godwin—see?'
Peak had as yet given but half an ear to his relative's
discourse; he had answered mechanically, and only now was
constrained to serious attention by a note of meaning in the last
interrogative.
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