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Chawner would very probably have petitioned to stay in that evening as well, had he had time and presence of mind to do so; as it was, he was obliged to go away and get ready for church, but when his preparations were made he came back to Paul, and leaning over him said with an unpleasant scowl, "If I get back in time, Bultitude, we'll see whether you baulk me quite so easily.
Bultitude's remaining breath away. He stood panting under the sickly rays of a street-lamp, the very incarnation of helpless, hopeless dismay. "Hallo!" said Coker, "it's young Bultitude!" "What do you mean by cannoning into a fellow like this?" said Coggs. "What are you up to out here, eh?"
Bultitude was in, and he had to give them a fair account of his escape and subsequent adventures, at which even their sympathy could not restrain delighted shouts of laughter though Paul himself saw little enough in it all to laugh at; they asked his name, which he thought more prudent, for various reasons, to give as "Jones," and other details, which I am afraid he invented as he went on, and altogether they reached Kentish Town in a state of high satisfaction with themselves and their protégé.
There was a lighted reading-lamp with a green glass shade upon the table. The Doctor sat down by it in an armchair by the fire, crossed his legs, and joined the tops of his fingers together. "Now, Bultitude," he said again. "Might I might I sit down?" said poor Mr. Bultitude in a thick voice; it was all that occurred to him to say. "Sit by all means," said the Doctor blandly.
Paul's heart leaped with triumph; with his enemy out of the way, he could carry out his purpose unhindered. The same thing apparently occurred to Chawner, for he said mildly, "Please, sir, may Richard Bultitude come too?" "Can't Bultitude ask leave for himself?" said the Doctor. "I, sir!" said the horrified Paul, "it's a mistake I don't want to go. I I don't feel very well this evening!"
When he saw it he knew that all hope of changing her purpose must be abandoned. Then they all sat down, and, as Paul had foreseen, there the white cocked-hat lay on the dark pew-carpet, hideously distinct, with billet doux in every fold of it! It could only be a question of time now. The curate was reading the first lesson for the day, but Mr. Bultitude heard not a verse of it.
"Well, if you won't," said Tipping easily, "I suppose we must. Biddlecomb, kindly knock him down, and sit on his head while I fill his playbox for him." This was neatly and quickly done. Biddlecomb tripped Mr. Bultitude up, and sat firmly on him, while Tipping carefully replaced the good things in Dick's box, after which he locked it, and courteously returned the key.
But he glanced over the top of the paper at the indignant Paul, who was not accustomed to have his information received in this manner, with less suspicion and a growing conviction that some influence during the holidays had changed the boy from a graceless young scapegrace into a prig of the first water. "He's most uncivil" Mr. Bultitude told himself "almost insulting, but I'll go on.
"Then you see, Chawner, you misunderstood him. By the way, Bultitude, there was something you were to tell me, I think?" Chawner's small glittering eyes were fixed on Paul menacingly as he managed to stammer that he did want to say something in private. "Very well, I am going out to see a friend for an hour or so when I come back I will hear you," and he left the room abruptly.
Bultitude was beginning to fear must belong to him was lengthened and drawn with dismay and bewilderment. "Dick," said Paul faintly, "what is all this? Who has been, been taking these liberties with me?" "I'm sure I don't know," protested Dick. "It wasn't me. I believe you did it all yourself." "Did it all myself!" repeated Paul indignantly. "Is it likely I should?
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