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At that moment the little clay pipe fell from the workman's mouth and was broken into bits. He awoke with a start, gazed stupidly at the old man and his companion, and at the broken clay pipe. "Curse my luck!" he said, yawning. "I was fond of that damned little pipe." The old man drew his own pipe and his own tobacco-pouch from his pocket. "Take these, stranger," he said. "I don't want them.
I told him that I would like a glass of lemonade, and he took me to the summerhouse, where I recognized the old woman who had sold me the tobacco-pouch. The eunuch told her to give me a glass of some liquid which I found delicious, and would not allow me to give her any money.
But though the tobacco-pouch lay by his side on the balustrade, and the pipe stood against the wall between his knees, childlike lifting up its lips to the customary caress, he heeded neither the one nor the other, but laid the letter silently on his lap, and fixed his eyes upon the ground. "It must be bad news indeed!" thought Jackeymo, and desisted from his work.
One lady there was, indeed, who seemed a little better to do in the world than the rest; she was nicely dressed, and attended by a female servant; she came in with a certain little consequential rustle, and displayed some coquetry, and a very pretty bare foot, as she took her place, and, pulling out a dandy little pipe and tobacco-pouch, began to smoke.
The only natives we had met during our unusually long march to-day, were four hairy-looking savages from the interior, from whom, after much difficulty, I succeeded in purchasing an aboriginal tobacco-pouch, flint, and steel, all combined in one, paying for the same about three times its actual and local value, viz. two rupees.
At last he said, half aloud, "I think I'll smoke my pipe to-night with that poor fellow, O'Donel. He must be lonely enough, and I don't often condescend to be social." Taking up his pipe and tobacco-pouch, he went towards the kitchen. Now, while his master was enduring those uncomfortable feelings in the hall, Teddy was undergoing torments in the kitchen that are past description.
He devoted himself doggedly to the filling of his pipe. "Nothing." "On your word of honor, as a gentleman?" "On my word of honor, as a gentleman." He put back his tobacco-pouch in his pocket. His handsome face was as hard as stone. His clear blue eyes defied all the girls in England put together to see into his mind.
"I see nothing but limewash, smell nothing but carbolic. It's got into my head. Look here, old man, I can't stand it. I'm no use," he added pathetically to Fielding. "You're right enough, if you'll not take yourself so seriously," said Dicky jauntily. "You mustn't try to say, 'Alone I did it. Come along. Fill your tobacco-pouch. There are the horses. I'm ready." He turned to Fielding.
When the discourse was finished, he knocked the ashes out of his pipe, replaced it in his sporran, returned the tobacco-pouch or spleuchan to its owner, and joined in the prayer with decency and attention.
He now picked up the pipe and tobacco-pouch which the student had let fall, and, holding them out to him, said: "Don't take on so dreadfully in the dark, my worthy sir, or alarm people, when nothing is the matter, after all, but having taken a sip too much; go home, like a pretty man, and take a nap of sleep on it."
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