Norman, the speaker, was a tall, slender stripling about seventeen, with well-cut features and beautiful glossy hair of a raven blackness, which he wore long, and evidently bestowed much care upon; but his cold, grey eyes, and the immovable expression of his mouth, gave a clue to his true character—viz., a clear, vigorous intellect, but a total deficiency of that which is commonly called heart. He was very anxious to leave the school, as a rich relation, who had taken a fancy to him, and intended to make him his heir, had purchased for him a commission in a cavalry regiment, on the strength of which he affected a pococurante air; and possessing great natural powers of sarcasm, made himself feared and looked up to by the other boys. Outwardly he and Biggington were the greatest allies possible, but beneath the surface lay hidden a mine of envy, hatred, malice, and all uncharitableness, which only required the application of a match to cause an explosion, the effects of which could scarcely be foreseen.
“It’s an awful bore, really,” replied Sprattly, “for my cousin Courtenay Trevanion——”
“Which, being interpreted, means Jack Sprattly,” interrupted Norman, sarcastically.
“No! come, really Norman, ’pon my life you’re too bad. I told you of his being my relation quite in confidence. All theatricals have a professional name, and a fellow may as well choose a spicy one as not, while he is about it,” continued Sprattly; “but I was going to tell you about to-night. They are going to do the ‘Beggars’ Opera,’ Juliet Elphinstone——”
“Alias Betsey Slasher,” put in the incorrigible Norman.
“Plays Polly Peachum,” continued Sprattly, not heeding the interruption; “Coralie, the French girl, does Lucy Lockit; and Courtenay—or Jack, if you will have it so,” he added quickly, perceiving that Norman was again about to speak—“Jack himself is cast for Macheath; stunningly he’ll play it too, for I heard him last winter—can’t he just tip ’em, ‘How happy could I be with either’ in style!—Uncommon well he looks, too, in the highwaymen’s dress—red frock-coat, with gold frogs, and high shiny leather boots; but Jack’s a regular spicy-looking fellow.”
“Little too much of the lamps and sawdust about him,” returned Norman, superciliously.
He paused a moment, then turning to Biggington, he said abruptly, fixing his piercing glance upon him as he spoke—
“Big., we must go to this affair.”
Thus appealed to, the cock of the school, who at heart was more dunghill than game, like most other bullies, turned rather pale as he replied in a low voice—