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He felt as little animus against Hargate as he had felt against Spike on the occasion of their first meeting. "Do you make much at this sort of game?" he asked. Hargate was relieved. This was business-like. "Pots," he said, with some enthusiasm. "Pots. I tell you, if you'll stand in " "Bit risky, isn't it?" "Not a bit of it. An occasional accident " "I suppose you'd call me one?" Hargate grinned.
Bertha, unless looked at through the eyes of susceptible young manhood, would by no means be pronounced formidable. She was country-bred and quite rustic; but there are refinements of rusticity; and for Beacon Hargate, Bertha was a lady.
He could not see the light-haired one, even with Sir Thomas Blunt shoving behind, as it were, accomplishing the knight's ends. Shove he never so wisely, Sir Thomas could never make a Romeo out of Spennie Dreever. It was while sitting in the billiard-room one night after dinner, watching his rival play a hundred up with the silent Hargate, that Jimmy came definitely to this conclusion.
"That looks frightfully exciting," he said, disparagingly. "What are you playing at? Patience?" Hargate nodded again, this time without looking up. "Oh, don't sit there looking like a frog," said Lord Dreever, irritably. "Talk, man." Hargate gathered up the cards, and proceeded to shuffle them in a meditative manner, whistling the while. "Oh, stop it!" said his lordship.
But he let the thing go. "Very well," he said. Twenty minutes later, Hargate was looking some-what ruefully at the score-sheet. "I owe you eighteen shillings," he said. "Shall I pay you now, or shall we settle up in a lump after we've finished?" "What about stopping now?" said Lord Dreever. "It's quite fine out." "No, let's go on. I've nothing to do till dinner, and I don't suppose you have."
A clear but sluggish stream winds among its sedges and water-lilies round the western side of the Beacon Hill, and washes the edge of a garden which belongs to the one survival of the picturesque old times Beacon Hargate has to show.
"Look out, Master Hargate," the boatman said as they started; "you'd best not go out too far, for the wind is freshening fast, and we shall have, I think, a nasty night." The boys thought little of the warning, for the sky was bright and blue, broken only by a few gauzy white clouds which streaked it here and there.
It was a simple meal, thick slices of bread and butter and tea, for Mrs. Hargate could only afford to put meat upon the table once a day, and even for that several times in the week fish was substituted, when the weather was fine and the fishing boats returned, when well laden. Frank fortunately cared very little what he ate, and what was good enough for his mother was good enough for him.
You sprained it to-morrow after breakfast. It was bad luck. I wonder how you came to do it. You didn't sprain it much, but just enough to stop you playing billiards." Hargate reflected. "Understand?" said Jimmy. "Oh, very well," said Hargate, sullenly. "But," he burst out, "if I ever get a chance to get even with you " "You won't," said Jimmy. "Dismiss the rosy dream. Get even! You don't know me.
He had not a great deal of pride in his composition, but the thought of the ignominious role that Hargate was sketching out for him stirred what he had to its shallow bottom. Talking on, Hargate managed to add the last straw. "Of course," he said, "that money you lost to me at picquet what was it? Twenty? Twenty pounds, wasn't it? Well, we would look on that as canceled, of course.
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