“All right, young swell, I hope it will. Funny I feel such an interest in you, ’specially since that young greeny friend of yours put in a word for you. He’s a real nice sort, he is—he owes you one, and no mistake.”
“What!” said Loman, in surprise; “who do you mean? Young Greenfield?”
“To be sure. Regular young chum of mine, he is. I know all about you, my master, and no mistake!”
“What—the young sneak? What has he been saying about me?”
“Eh!—what ain’t he been saying! In course you didn’t half murder him, eh? In course you ain’t a good hand at cheatin’ all round up at the school! What? In course you ain’t saying nice things agin me all over the place—and in course some of us wouldn’t like to see you get a reg’lar good hiding, wouldn’t we? Bless you, I knows all about it; but I’m mum, never fear!” Loman was furious.
“The young liar!” he exclaimed. “I did owe him one; I’ll pay him when we get back!”
“Hold hard, young gentleman,” said Cripps, coolly. “To be sure, he ain’t downright sweet on you; but I ain’t a-going to have him smashed, mind, all to bits. Well, never mind that. I’ll turn back with you, young gentleman, if I may. We’re only three miles from Maltby, and maybe you’ll honour a poor chap like me by having a look in at the Cockchafer.”
Loman did not know how to say “No,” much as he disliked and feared his host. He returned with him to Maltby, and there spent an hour in the Cockchafer. He was introduced to several of Mr Cripps’s low friends, in whose society he found it easy enough to become low himself. Cripps, by a judicious mixture of flattery and sly threats, managed to keep the boy well in hand, and when at last he rose to go it was with a promise to return again before the holidays were over—“to prevent Cripps having the trouble of calling on him,” as that virtuous gentleman significantly put it.
Loman kept his promise, and visited Maltby once or twice, becoming each time more familiar with Cripps and his low friends, who made a great deal of him, and flattered him on all possible occasions, so that the boy presently found himself, as he imagined, quite a young hero at the Cockchafer.
Meanwhile, naturally, his reading fell behindhand. His parents, only too glad to see their boy taking more regular exercise, never suspected or inquired as to the direction of his frequent solitary rides. To them he seemed the same quiet, clever boy they fondly believed him. Little guessed they of the troubles that filled his breast or the toils that were daily enwrapping him!