HOW SIR PETER ANTROBUS AND JEROME BROOKE-HOSKYN,
ESQUIRE, SMOKED A PIPE TOGETHER
Chapter II headpiece
On Saturday afternoon, May 25, 1805, Pomander Walk was looking its very best. The sun transfigured the old houses; the elm rustled in the river-breeze; the Admiral's thrush was singing wistfully; Mrs. Poskett's cat, Sempronius, was seated in her little front garden, wistfully listening to the bird's song; the Eyesore was patiently wasting worms on discriminating fish who knew a hook when they saw it; and Sir Peter Antrobus and Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn, both in their shirt-sleeves, were finishing a game of quoits.
"A ringer!" shouted Sir Peter, whose quoit had fallen fairly over the peg. Then he hurried up to the quoits, and, measuring their respective distances from it with a huge bandana handkerchief, added, "One maiden to you, Brooke! Game all! Peeled, by Jehoshaphat!"
Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn flicked the dust off his waistcoat with magnificent indifference. The Admiral produced a boatswain's whistle, and in answer to a blast, his man, Jim, appeared at an upstair window. "Ay, ay, Admiral!"
"The usual. Here, under the elm. And look lively."
"Ay, ay, sir!"
Jim disappeared like a Jack-in-the-box. "We must play it off," said Sir Peter.
But Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn protested. "Another time, Sir Peter. It is very warm, and my eye is out."