Hard Cash. Charles Reade Reade

and she returned the fervid pressure of her daughter's hand; and both their faces were flushed with gratified pride and affection.

      “Dodd!” broke in “the incongruous dog,” with a voice just like a saw's. “Dodd? Ah, that's the man who is just ploughed for smalls.”

      Ice has its thunderbolts.

      CHAPTER II

       Table of Contents

      Winning boat-races was all very fine; but a hundred such victories could not compensate Mr. Kennet's female hearers for one such defeat as he had announced—a defeat that, to their minds, carried disgrace. Their Edward plucked! At first they were benumbed, and sat chilled, with red cheeks, bewildered between present triumph and mortification at hand. Then the colour ebbed out of their faces, and they encouraged each other feebly in whispers, “Might it not be a mistake?”

      But unconscious Kennet robbed them of this timid hope. He was now in his element, knew all about it, rushed into details, and sawed away all doubt from their minds. The sum was this. Dodd's general performance was mediocre, but passable; he was plucked for his Logic. Hardie said he was very sorry for it. “What does it matter?” answered Kennet; “he is a boating-man.

      “Well, and I am a boating-man. Why, you told me yourself, the other day, poor Dodd was anxious about it on account of his friends. And, by-the-bye, that reminds me they say he has got two pretty sisters here.”

      Says Kennet briskly, “I'll go and tell him; I know him just to speak to.”

      “What! doesn't he know?”

      “How can he know?” said Kennet jealously; “the testamurs were only just out as I came away.” And within this he started on his congenial errand.

      Hardie took two or three of his long strides, and fairly collared him. “You will do nothing of the kind.”

      “What, not tell a man when he's ploughed? That is a good joke.”

      “No. There's time enough. Tell him after chapel to-morrow, or in chapel if you must; but why poison his triumphal cup? And his sisters, too, why spoil their pleasure? Hang it all, not a word about 'ploughing' to any living soul to-day.”

      To his surprise, Kennet's face expressed no sympathy, nor even bare assent. At this Hardie lost patience, and burst out impetuously, “Take care how you refuse me; take care how you thwart me in this. He is the best-natured fellow in college. It doesn't matter to you, and it does to him; and if you do, then take my name off the list of your acquaintance, for I'll never speak a word to you again in this world; no, not on my death-bed, by Heaven!”

      The threat was extravagant; but Youth's glowing cheek and eye, and imperious lip, and simple generosity, made it almost beautiful.

      Kennet whined, “Oh, if you talk like that, there is an end to fair argument.”

      “End it then, and promise me; upon your honour!”

      “Why not? What bosh! There, I promise. Now, how do you construe κυμινοπριστης?”

      The incongruous dog (“I thank thee, Taff, for teaching me that word”) put this query with the severity of an inquisitor bringing back a garrulous prisoner to the point. Hardie replied gaily, “Any way you like, now you are a good fellow again.”

      “Come, that is evasive. My tutor says it cannot be rendered by any one English word; no more can γαστριμιθος.”

      “Why, what on earth can he know about English? γαστριμιθος is a Cormorant: κυμινοπριστης is a Skinflint; and your tutor is a Duffer. Hush! keep dark now! here he comes.” And he went hastily to meet Edward Dodd: and by that means intercepted him on his way to the carriage. “Give me your hand, Dodd,” he cried; “you have saved the university. You must be stroke of the eight-oar after me. Let me see more of you than I have, old fellow.”

      “Within all my heart,” replied Edward calmly, but taking the offered hand cordially; though he rather wanted to get away to his mother and sister. “We will pull together, and read together into the bargain,” continued Hardie.

      “Read together? You and I? What do you mean?”

      “Well, you see I am pretty well up in the Imigliner books; what I have got to rub up is my Divinity and my Logic—especially my Logic. Will you grind Logic with me? Say 'Yes,' for I know you will keep your word.”

      “It is too good an offer to refuse, Hardie; but now I look at you, you are excited: wonderfully excited: within the race, eh? Now, just—you—wait—quietly—till next week, and then, if you are so soft as to ask me in cool blood——”

      “Wait a week?” cried the impetuous youth. “No, not a minute. It is settled. There, we cram Logic together next term.”

      And he shook Edward's hand again with glistening eyes and an emotion that was quite unintelligible to Edward; but not to the quick, sensitive spirits, who sat but fifteen yards off.

      “You really must excuse me just now,” said Edward, and ran to the carriage, and put out both hands to the fair occupants. They kissed him eagerly, with little tender sighs; and it cost them no slight effort not to cry publicly over “the beloved,” “the victorious,” “the ploughed.”

      Young Hardie stood petrified. What? These ladies Dodd's sisters. Why, one of them had called the other mamma. Good heavens! all his talk in their hearing had been of Dodd; and Kennet and he between them had let out the very thing he wanted to conceal, especially from Dodd's relations. He gazed at them, and turned hot to the very forehead. Then, not knowing what to do or say, and being after all but a clever boy, not a cool, “never unready” man of the world, he slipped away, blushing. Kennet followed, goggling.

      Left to herself, Mrs. Dodd would have broken the bad news to Edward at once, and taken the line of consoling him under her own vexation: it would not have been the first time that she had played that card. But young Mr. Hardie had said it would be unkind to poison Edward's day: and it is sweet woman's nature to follow suit; so she and Julia put bright faces on, and Edward passed a right jocund afternoon with them. He was not allowed to surprise one of the looks they interchanged to relieve their secret mortification. But, after dinner, as the time drew near for him to go back to Oxford, Mrs. Dodd became silent, and a little distraite; and at last drew her chair away to a small table, and wrote a letter.

      In directing it she turned it purposely, so that Julia could catch the address: “Edward Dodd, Esq., Exeter College, Oxford.”

      Julia was naturally startled at first, and her eye roved almost comically to and fro the letter and its Destination, seated calm and unconscious of woman's beneficent wiles. But her heart soon divined the mystery: it was to reach him the first thing in the morning, and spare him the pain of writing the news to them; and, doubtless, so worded as not to leave him a day in doubt of their forgiveness and sympathy.

      Julia took the missive unobserved by the Destination, and glided out of the room to get it quietly posted.

      The servant-girl was waiting on the second-floor lodgers, and told her so, with a significant addition, viz., that the post was in this street, and only a few doors off. Julia was a little surprised at her coolness, but took the hint with perfect good temper, and just put on her shawl and bonnet, and went with it herself. The post-office was not quite so near as represented; but she was soon there, for she was eager till she had posted it. But she came back slowly and thoughtfully; here in the street, lighted only by the moon, and an occasional gaslight, there was no need for self-restraint, and soon her mortification betrayed itself in her speaking countenance. And to think that her mother, on whom she doted, should have to write to her son, there present, and post the letter! This made her eyes fill, and before she reached the door of the lodging, they were brimming over.

      As she put her foot on the step, a timid voice addressed her