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AMONGST THE PLUNGERS.
"Hullo! Markworth. How lucky! Why you are just the man I want; you're ubiquitous, who'd have thought of seeing you in town?" said Tom Hartshorne, of the --th Dragoons, cheerily, as he sauntered late one summer afternoon into a private billiard-room in Oxford-street, where a tall, dark-complexioned, and strikingly-handsome man, was knocking the balls about in his shirt-sleeves, and trying all sorts of fancy shots against the cushions--The sole occupant of the room was he, with the exception of the marker, who was looking on in a desultory sort of way at the strokes of the player from his thronelike chair underneath the scoring board.
"Who? Why? What? Enlighten me, Tom."
"Well, you see, Markworth, I've got to go down to-morrow for my annual week to my mother's place in Sussex. It will be so awfully slow; just fancy, old chap, a whole week in that dreary old country house, with no company, no shooting, no fishing, no anything! Why, it's enough to kill a fellow!"
"Poor Tom," observed Markworth, sympathisingly.
"Yes; but that's not the worst either, old chap. My mother is very cranky, you know, and the house itself is as dull as ditch-water. You have to go to bed and get up by clockwork; and if one should be late at dinner, or in turning in, why, it is thought more of by the ruling powers than the worst sin in the decalogue. Besides, I have to keep straight and humour the old lady--for I am quite dependent on her until I come of age; and, though she's very fond of me in her sort of way, she cuts up rough sometimes, and would stop supplies in a moment if I should offend her."
"Dutiful infant! I pity your sorrows, Tom; but what can I do to help you?"
"I'm just coming to that; but we may as well have a game by the way, while we're talking."
"Certainly; how many points shall I give you? The usual number, eh? Score up, fifteen to spot, marker," he said, turning to the little man, who, with a face of dull impassiveness, was sitting bolt upright, like Neptune with his trident, holding the billiard-rest in a perpendicular position, apparently hearing nothing, although his eyes twinkled every now and then. "You lead, Tom, of course."
"All right, here goes; but, to return to what we were speaking about. You can help me very much, Markworth."
"Can I? That's a good cannon, you mustn't play all through like that, Tom, or you'll beat me easily; but, go on, and tell me what you want."
"Ha! yes--you see I've got one saving clause in my predicament. My mother says I may bring some one down with me, and I don't know who the deuce to take--for any of our fellows would ruin me in half a day with the old lady, by talking slang, or flirting with the maids, or something else."
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