“Don't forget it or lose it, for it's rather important,” added Oaklands; “but I need not caution you, you are not one of the harebrained sort; if it had been my friend Freddy, now——”
“I'll tell you what it is, Mr. Oaklands,” said Coleman, putting on an air of offended dignity, in which, though very much exaggerated, there was at the bottom the smallest possible spice of reality—a thing, by the way, one may often observe in people who have a very strong appreciation of the ridiculous, and who, however fond they may be of doing absurd things for the sake of being laughed at, do not approve of their buffooneries being taken for granted—“I'll tell you what it is, sir—you have formed a most mistaken estimate of my character; I beg to say that any affair I undertake is certain to be conducted in a very sedate and business-like manner. My prudence I consider unimpeachable; and as to steadiness, I flatter myself I go considerably ahead of the Archbishop of Canterbury in that article. If I hear you repeat such offensive remarks, I shall be under the painful necessity of elongating your already sufficiently prolonged proboscis.”
“Come and try,” said Oaklands, folding his arms with an air of defiance. Coleman, reckoning on his adversary's dislike of exertion, and trusting to his own extreme quickness and activity to effect his escape scot-free, made a feint of turning away as if to avoid the contest, and then, with a sudden spring, leaped upon Oaklands, and succeeded in just touching his nose. The latter was, however, upon his guard, and while, by seizing his outstretched arm with one hand, he prevented him from attaining his object, he caught him by the coat-collar with the other, and detained him prisoner.
“I've got you this time, at all events, Master Freddy; now what shall I do with you, to pay you off for all your impertinence?” said Oaklands, looking round the room in search of something suitable to his purpose. “I have it,” continued he, as his eyes encountered the bookcase, which was a large square-topped, old-fashioned affair, standing about eight feet high, and the upper part forming a sort of glass-fronted closet, in which the books were arranged on shelves. “Great men like you, who go ahead of archbishops and so on, should be seated in high places.” So saying he lifted Coleman in his arms, with as much ease as if he had been a kitten; and, stepping up on a chair which stood near, seated him on the top of the bookcase, with his head touching the ceiling, and his feet dangling about six feet from the ground.
“What a horrid shame!” said Coleman; “come help me down again, Harry, there's a good fellow.”
“I help you down!” rejoined Oaklands, “I've had trouble enough in putting you up, I think; I'm a great deal too much tired to help you down again.”
“Well, if you won't, there's nobody else can,” said Coleman, “unless they get a ladder, or a fire-escape—don't call me proud, gentlemen, if I look down upon you all, for I assure you it's quite involuntary on my part.”
“A decided case of 'up aloft': he looks quite the cherub, does he not?” said Lawless.
"They are making game of you, Coleman,” cried Mullins, grinning.
“I hope not,” was the reply, “for in that case I should be much too high to be pleasant.”