HOW A PLEASANT TREAT IN STORE WAS PREPARED FOR MY MASTER.

Gus proceeded then to divulge his plan for giving Tom Drift his revenge on my master.

"Let's take him to Gurley races on Sat.u.r.day," said he. "You know it's a holiday, and if we can only get him with us, well astonish his sanctimonious young soul. What do you say?"

"You'll never get him to come," said Margetson.

"Won't we? Well see about that," replied Gus, "he needn't know where he's going."

"But even so," said Drift, "you won't get him; he's not in love with me, and I don't fancy any of you are much in his line."

"Oh, you'll have to manage that part, Tom. You know how the young idiot's pining to make it up with you, for your dear old mother's sake!"

"Now you needn't start that nonsense again," put in Tom sulkily.

"All right; but don't you see, if you were to take a forgiving fit and make up to him, and talk about the old lady and his watch, and all that, he'd be out of his wits with joy? and then if you asked him to come for a day's fishing on Sat.u.r.day, we could meet you somewhere on the road, and then he'd have to come whether he liked or not; and won't we astonish him!"

Tom mused a little.

"It's not a bad idea," said he presently, "if it would only work. But I can't make up to the young puppy as you think. Ten to one I should stop short in the middle and kick him."

"That would spoil all the fun. Try it on, any way, it'll be a nice little excitement to have young Innocent with us. And now, Tom, where are blacks and reds; I'm just in the humour for a rubber, aren't you?"

The host produced from a locked desk a dirty and much-worn pack of cards, and the party sat down to play.

They played for penny points, and as Gus and Margetson were partners, it is hardly necessary to say that Drift and his ill-looking friend lost every game.

Before this amiable and congenial quartet separated, Gus had referred again to the scheme of getting Charlie to Gurley races, and got Drift to promise he would secure his victim next day.

Next day, accordingly, as Charlie was in the midst of a desperate game of fives with his friend Jim, a small boy came to him and said that Tom Drift wanted him.

"What for?" demanded Charlie, who, since his talk with the elder Halliday, had felt somewhat "shy" about Tom.

"I don't know," said the boy.

"Your turn, Charlie," called out Jim from the end of the court.

Charlie took his turn while he was revolving on his answer to this mysterious summons.

"What does that child want?" inquired Jim, with all the loftiness of a second-form boy speaking of a first.

"He says Tom Drift wants me."

"Whew!" whistled Jim, who of course knew the whole mystery of the affair between his chum and Tom; "tell him to go to Jericho! Look out for yourself!"

And so saying, he took his turn with the ball.

"That wouldn't do," said Charlie; "I don't want to rile him."

"_I'd_ like to have a chance," retorted the implacable Jim. "Well, then, tell him you can't come. Here, young un, tell Tom Drift Charlie can't come. Do you hear? Cut your sticks!"

But Charlie called the messenger back. "I _could_, go if I wanted, Jim.

Better tell him I'd rather not come. Say that, youngster--I'd rather not."

So off the youngster ran, and Charlie and Jim finished their game. Of coa.r.s.e, the youthful messenger gave Tom a full, true, and particular account of this conversation in all its details, which rendered that young gentleman rather less eager than ever for his enterprise.

However, he had the fear of Gus before his eyes, and strolled out into the playground on the chance of coming across Charlie.

And he did come across him, arm-in-arm with the faithful Jim. Tom worked his face into the ghastly similitude of a friendly smile as he approached, and said, in as genial a voice as he could pretend, "I'm glad I met you, Newcome, because I want to speak to you, if you don't mind taking a turn round the playground."

Charlie, of course, was astonished; he had expected at the very least to be kicked over the wall when he saw Tom approach, and he was utterly at a loss to understand this not unfriendly greeting. Innocent boy! it never occurred to him the demonstration could be anything but real. Jim would have been a tougher subject to deal with. Indeed, as he let go Charlie's arm, and saw him walk off with Tom, he muttered to himself, not caring particularly whether the latter heard him or not.

"Gammon! that's what it is."

Charlie had not long to wait before his companion began the conversation.

"I suppose you wonder why I want you, Newcome?" said he. "The fact is, I've been thinking I wasn't altogether right in being down on you the other day about lending me that watch, especially as you were a new boy; and I'm sorry if I hurt you."

Charlie sprung towards him and caught his arm.

"Oh, Tom Drift, don't say that, please! It was my fault--all my fault, and I have been so sorry ever since. And you will be friends now, won't you? I do so want to be, because I promised your mother--"

Tom gave a quick gesture of impatience, which, if Charlie had understood, he would have known how near receiving a kick he was at that moment.

Tom, however, restrained himself, and said,--

"Oh, yes, for her sake I'd like to be friends, of course, and I hope you'll forget all about that wretched quarrel."

"Indeed I will," cried Charlie; "and don't let us say any more about it.

I am ever so much happier now, and it was so good of you to come to me and make it up."

"Well," said Tom loftily, "you know it's no use for two fellows to be at loggerheads when it can be helped, and I dare say we shall get on all the better now. How are you going on in the second?"

Whereupon Charlie launched into a lengthy and animated account of his experiences, to which Tom pretended to listen, but scarcely heard a word.

"So you are fond of fishing?" he said, casually, after the boy had mentioned something on that subject.

"Ain't I, though?" cried Charlie, now quite happy, and his old self again. "I say, Tom Drift, would you like to see the new lance-wood top I've got to my rod? It's a stunner, I can tell you. I'll lend it you, you know, any time you like."

"Have you caught much since you were here!" asked Tom, anxious to get this hateful business over.

"No. You know the brook here isn't a good one for fish, and I don't know anywhere else near."

"Well, I'll tell you what," said Tom, as if the idea had then for the first time occurred to him. "Suppose we go off for a regular good day on Sat.u.r.day? It's a holiday, you know, and we could go and try up the Sharle, near Gurley. There's lots of trout there, and we are certain to have a good day."

"How jolly!" exclaimed Charlie. "It would be grand. But I say, Tom Drift, are you sure you wouldn't mind coming? It wouldn't be a bother to you, would it?"

"Not a bit. I like a good day's fishing. But, I say, young un, you'd better not say anything about it to any one, or we shall have a swarm of fellows come too, and that will spoil all the sport."

"All right," said Charlie. "I say what a day we shall have! I'll bring my watch and knife, you know, and some grub, and we can picnic there, eh?"