"Why, how do you mean? what's he like, then?” asked Lawless.
“Oh, he's very well to look at, only he's as tall as a life-guardsman; but he's sich a free and easy chap, and ain't he got a pretty good notion of making himself comfortable, too!—that's all. But come in, gents, you'll soon see what I mean. He chucked the flyman who brought him here half a guinea, and when I asked him if he did not want the change, for the fare was only half a crown, he merely said 'Pooh!' and told me not to talk, for it tired him.”
With our feelings of curiosity somewhat excited by this account we hastened into the pupils' room, anxious to behold the individual who had so greatly astonished Thomas.
Seated in Dr. Mildman's arm-chair, and with his legs resting upon two other chairs, so arranged as to form a temporary sofa, reclined a young man, apparently about eighteen, though his length of limb, and the almost herculean proportions of his chest and shoulders, seemed rather to belong to a more advanced age. He raised his head as we entered, disclosing a set of features which, in spite of an expression of languor and indifference, must have been pronounced unusually handsome. His complexion was a rich nut-brown; the high forehead, white as snow, contrasting well with the dark hue of his hair, which, in short clustering curls, harmonised well with the classical outline of his head, reminding one involuntarily of the young Antinous. The short curling upper-lip, and well-chiselled nostril, told a tale of pride and resolution, strongly at variance with the mild sleepy appearance of the large dark hazel eyes, to which the long silken lashes that shaded them imparted an almost feminine expression. He did not attempt to alter his position as we approached, but, merely turning his head, gazed at us steadfastly for a moment, and then observed in a slow, half-absent manner:—
“Oh, the other pupils, I suppose—how do you do, all of you?”
Lawless, who was foremost, was so much surprised, and so little pleased at this nonchalant style of address, that he made no reply, but turning on his heel proceeded to leave the room, in order to divest himself of his hunting costume, muttering as he went, “Cool enough that, by Jove, eh!”
The duty of doing the polite having thus devolved upon Coleman, he winked at me by way of preliminary, and, making a low bow in the true dancing-master style, replied as follows:—
“Your penetration has not erred, Mr. Oaklands; we are the other pupils; and in answer to your obliging inquiries, I have much pleasure in informing you that we are all in perfect health and very tolerable spirits; and now, sir, in return for your kind condescension, allow me, in the absence of my superiors, to express a hope that you are feeling pretty comfortable—ahem!”
Having thus delivered himself, Coleman drew up his figure to its utmost height, and, folding his arms with an air of pompous dignity, awaited an answer.
“Oh yes, I'm comfortable enough,” was the reply; “I always am; only I'm so done up, tired as a dog—the least thing fatigues me; I'm as weak as a rat! Don't they give you sofas here, Mr. What's-your-name?”