“Poisoned! how can you be? You have taken nothing but the beer, and we have all drunk that. No, it’s the tobacco; it always makes fellows rather seedy at first, and I expect you swallowed a lot of the smoke.”
“I did.”
“Well, then, drink this and you will be all right presently.”
Edwards took the emetic, which had the effect peculiar to that description of beverage. It was not a pleasant one; indeed, he thought he was going to die; but after a while the worst symptoms passed off, and he was able to walk home.
Saurin and Edwards lodged at the same tutors, and they went up to the room of the latter without attracting attention. Here Edwards, under the other’s directions, washed his face, cleaned his teeth, changed his jacket and neck-tie, and put some scented pomatum on his hair, and then lay down on his bed till the supper-bell should ring.
“I shall not be able to eat,” he remonstrated. “Do you think I need go down?”
“Oh, yes; come and have a try, or else it will excite suspicion. You would have to show at prayers directly afterwards, you know, so it will not make much difference. You have nothing to do with old Cookson between this and supper—no exercise or anything?”
“No, thank goodness!”
“That’s all right. You have a good hour for a nap, and your head will be better then. I must go and sweeten myself now.”
I regret to say that “old Cookson” was the shockingly disrespectful way in which this flagitious youth spoke of his reverend and learned tutor.