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Updated: June 26, 2025
"Little ninepins, would you like to get threepence?" asked he. "You shall have it, if you'll carry a message for me close by." "Little ninepins" had probably never had a whole threepence to herself in her young life. She caught at the tempting suggestion, and Bywater drilled into her his instructions, finding her excessively stupid in the process. Perhaps that was all the better.
"I fear one of the young college lads was drowned last night by my boat-house. We have picked up his cap this morning. It was poor little Master Channing." Hamish controlled his emotion better than did the Rev. Mr. Pye. The latter turned his eyes on the horrified school, himself equally horrified, and then signified to Pierce senior to dress himself to Bywater to retire to his place.
"I shouldn't mind such a life as that fellow's yonder!" exclaimed young Berkeley, who was fonder of idleness than he was of Latin. "I'll turn bargeman when other trades fail. It must be rather jolly to sit steering a boat all day, and do nothing but smoke." "Fordham's gone, and be hanged to him! Now for it, Galloway!" "Stop a bit," said Bywater.
"There; don't bother!" said Bywater, dropping the coin into his hand. "Why, bless my heart, who's this, a prowling in the cloisters at this hour?" exclaimed a well-known cracked voice, advancing upon them with shuffling footsteps. "What do you do here, pray?" "You would like to know, wouldn't you, Mr. Calcraft?" said Bywater. "Studying architecture. There!"
He held the victim at arm's length, his eyes dilating, his right hand raised, when a head was suddenly propelled close upon them from the graveyard. Gerald was so startled as to drop his hold of Charley. The head belonged to Stephen Bywater, who must have crept across the burial-ground and chosen that spot to emerge from, attracted probably by the noise. "What's the row?" asked he.
"Charley Channing's no more delicate than we are. It's all in the look. As good say that detestable little villain, Boulter, is delicate, because he has yellow curls. I vote for the beating." "I'll vote you out of the business, if you show insubordination, Mr. Tod," cried Bywater. "We'll pay out Miss Charley in some way, but it shan't be by beating him."
The dog crouched back against the wall, and after a brief halt near the stair-head, Captain Bywater turned the knob of his bed-room door and passed in. The dog followed, the door was closed, and once more all was silent. Jim turned and encountered the white face of his wife. She had been standing behind him all the while, and had seen everything just as it had been presented to his own eyes.
"Should I stand before him, and take my trencher off, with a bow, and say, 'If you please, sir, it was the college boys who served out old Ketch! That would be a nice joke! He said, at breakfast, this morning, that that fumbling old Ketch must have got hold of the wrong keys. 'Of course, sir! answered I." "Oh, what do you think, though!" interrupted Bywater. "Ketch can't find the keys.
It was part of a small broken phial, of a peculiar shape, which had once apparently contained ink; an elegant shape, it may be said, not unlike a vase. Bywater began turning it about in his fingers; he was literally feasting his eyes upon it. "Do you want to keep it, Jenkins?" "Not at all, sir. I wonder my wife did not throw it away before this."
In his own fashion, almost ignoring the presence of the bishop, he made known the tale. It was received with ridicule. The college boys especially cast mockery upon it, and began dancing a jig when the bishop's back was turned. "Let a couple of keys drop down, and, when picked up, you found them transmogrified into old rusty machines, made in the year one!" cried Bywater.
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