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Badcock obliged us with a tune on the flute, he came forward and stared at him for a time and then butted him in the stomach. "We had to carry the poor man to bed. We slept, all four of us, in a loft, which could only be reached by a ladder; and a ram, as you know, can't climb a ladder. It's out of nature.
Mr. Fett sighed assent. "Ah! Cavalier, it has been a stony road we have travelled from Calenzana. Infandum jubes renovare dolorem . . . but Badcock must bear the blame." Badcock with his flute made trees Has it ever struck you sir, that Orpheus possibly found the gift of Apollo a confounded nuisance; that he must have longed at times to get rid of his attendant beasts and compose in private?
But be the wrong too great to speak of, or too small to swear about, from poor Kit Badcock to rich Master Huckaback, there was not one but went heart and soul for stamping out these firebrands.
All noise, in fact, appeared to irritate him. Mr. Badcock pocketed his flute in some dudgeon, and for occupation fell to drinking with Mr. Fett; whose potations, if they did not sensibly lighten the ship, heightened, at least, her semblance of buoyancy with a deck-cargo of empty bottles. My father put no restraint upon these topers.
"We left the city that afternoon and climbed the gorges towards Novi, intending our steps upon Turin. The mufro trotted behind us, and mile after mile at the brute's behest its stern behest, Cavalier Mr. Badcock fluted its favourite air, I attempt from love's sickness to fly.
Such a face I never saw, and never hope to see again, as when poor Kit Badcock spied Charley coming towards us. We had thought this man a patient fool, a philosopher of a little sort, or one who could feel nothing. But I, in the loneliness of our barn, had listened, and had wept with him.
Yet the brute tried its best, having taken such a fancy to Badcock, and wouldn't be denied till his master beat him out of doors with a fire-shovel and penned him up for the night.
Badcock "the vulgar are not attending." Mr. Badcock woke up at once. "On the contrary," he explained, "I listen best with my eyes closed; a habit I acquired in Axminster Parish Church. Indeed, I am all ears." "Indeed you are. . . . Well then, as I was about to say, the secret of success in the Arts is to make other men do the work for you.
For our goal lies north and east, and to fail of it would break my heart. But 'twere a high enterprise for England some day to smoke out these robbers, and I know none to which a Christian man could more worthily engage himself." Mr. Badcock shivered. "In our parish church," said he, "we used to take up a collection for these poor prisoners every Septuagesima.
For two days past he had been slyly working upon Billy's fears, and was relating to him how, with two words, a Moorish lady had followed Gilbert a Becket from Palestine to London, and found him there when my father, attracted by the smell of pitch, strolled forward and caught Mr. Badcock in the act of sealing the bottles from a ladle which stood heating over a lamp.
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