“Strange,” thought he, “there are so many places in London where one could go and no one ever know it.”
He wished he could see what the place was like inside; it must surely be crowded by this time.
Thus he dawdled for some time; then with a sigh and an effort he tore himself away and walked quickly on to the Newcomes’ house. Their welcome was most cordial.
“We were afraid,” said Mr Newcome, “you had quite deserted us. Come in, it is pleasant to see you. We had a letter from Charlie only to-day, telling us to see you did not overwork yourself, and to make you come up here whether you would or not. Of course we could hardly follow such instructions literally.”
Tom spent a pleasant evening with the two good people.
He always had found Mr Newcome a clever and very entertaining man—a man whom one feels all the better for talking to, and who naturally sets every guest in his house at ease. They talked much about Charlie and his prospects. They even consulted Tom as to the wisdom of yielding to the boy’s desire for a military career, and Tom strongly supported the idea.
Then Tom’s own prospects were canvassed and highly approved of by both Mr, and Mrs Newcome.
Tom already pictured himself settled down in his country practice, enjoying himself, doing good to others, and laying by a comfortable competency for future years. On the whole, he felt, as he quitted the hospitable roof of his genial friends, that he had rarely spent a more pleasant or profitable evening.
People were thronging out of the theatre as he returned, and he could not resist the desire to stand and watch them; for a little. He wondered what they had seen, and whether those he saw had waited for the “farce,” or was that still going on?—and he wondered if any people ever went into a theatre at so late an hour as eleven.
Ah, Tom! he did not go in that night, or the next, but he was getting himself ready for the first step.