“Why, to tell you the truth,” replied Mr. Tallant, junior, with an air of great candour; “I can’t, you see; I’ve often thought I would make a clean breast of it, and tell you. The governor objects to you somehow or other; doesn’t like you; wishes me not to ask you to Barton.”
“That’s candid, begad,” said Mr. Gibbs, becoming a little redder in the face than usual. “Objects to me!”
“Stupid prejudice, but so it is; he doesn’t understand bucks of fashion like you, Shuff; and he’s heard about one or two of what you call your little affairs. And I am not very sorry either, Shuff; for I think the less he sees of you the better for me.”
“You’re devilish cool this morning, Dick Tallant, and—”
“And what?” said Mr. Tallant, hastily interrupting his friend, who showed unmistakable signs of anger. “Why, you know you’re an infernal rascal, Shuff, and that I’m not much better myself; so let’s have no brag about insults and all that sort of thing; I’m in with you for a short life and a merry one, so never mind the governor. Il ne faut pas éveiller le chat qui dort, as they say in France, vide Macdonnel.”
Mr. Shuffleton exhibited his teeth, and haw-hawed several times, and Mr. Tallant, junior, slapped him on the back.
“You’re a trump, Dick, ’pon my soul you are,” said Mr. Shuffleton Gibbs, in an affected burst of magnanimity; “I was inclined to be savage just now, but I see the frankness of your disclosure in the true light, after your explanation.”
“All right, old fellow,” said Mr. Tallant, “give me your hand upon it, and we are Siamese twins again; but let us finish the sherry.”
The two friends fell to with a will after this, and chatted quite genially together about a hundred trivial things, until Big Ben tolled four o’clock, when Mr. Richard Tallant mounted a splendid mare, and, followed by a sprightly groom on an animal of almost equal value, ambled towards the Park; whilst Mr. Shuffleton Gibbs betook himself quietly to his lodgings in Kensington Park Gardens, prior to keeping an engagement, he said, at the Corner, before dinner.
“The infernal impudent humbug,” said Mr. Gibbs to himself, as he walked smartly homewards; “the twopenny-halfpenny mushroom, sprung from a northern dunghill—never mind, I’ll be even with him some day. Fifty talents of silver invested in iron! Of late the fellow has assumed an air of superiority, and a bullying manner, which is devilish hard to bear. Wait a little, wait a little, très bon ami; you’ll find yourself in the mire one of these days.”