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Updated: June 3, 2025
When she came to Belfield's, not daring to enter the house, she sent in Mr Simkins, to desire that Mrs Belfield would be so good as to step to the coach door. "Is your son, madam," she cried, eagerly, "come home? and is any body with him?" "No, ma'am; he has never once been across the threshold since that gentleman took him out; and I am half out of my wits to think"
"Fie, Mr Hobson, fie!" said Mr Simkins, "to talk so slighting of the ladies before their faces! what one says in a corner, is quite of another nature; but for to talk so rude in their company, I thought you would scorn to do such a thing."
But two days after the Miter Hill game an incident occurred which proved him wrong in thinking that no one knew or cared whether he reported for practice. That morning's Greek had gone unusually badly for Clint and Mr. Simkins had kept him after class and talked some plain talk to him. When Clint's final recitation of the day was over at three he was out-of-sorts and depressed.
Again, however, to the coffee-house she instantly ordered the coach, an immediate explanation from herself seeming the only possible chance for preventing the most horrible conclusion to this unfortunate and eventful evening. She was still accompanied by Mr Simkins, and, but that she attended to nothing he said, would not inconsiderably have been tormented by his conversation.
Mr Harrel, who, during this debate, had still continued drinking, regardless of all opposition from his wife and Cecilia, now grew more and more turbulent: he insisted that Mr Simkins should return to his seat, ordered him another bumper of champagne, and saying he had not half company enough to raise his spirits, desired Morrice to go and invite more.
"I am not a beast, Mrs Forster," replied her husband, whose choler was roused; "I made a mistake; I do not perceive now I recollect it, did you send Betty with the 'day and night glass' to Captain Simkins?"
But the misfortunes he's had to struggle with would make nobody fatter." Here she was interrupted, and Cecilia not a little surprised, by the entrance of Mr Hobson and Mr Simkins. "Ladies," cried Mr Hobson, whom she soon found was Mrs Belfield's landlord: "I would not go up stairs without just stopping to let you know a little how the world goes."
The Subaltern thought that he had realised the danger and had naturally bobbed down for safety, but word was passed up "to keep down, as Sergeant Simkins had been shot dead through the heart." He never uttered a sound, and must have met his death instantly. Work was continued, but with the utmost caution.
"You won't do it if you don't sit down and get started," said his chum soothingly. "You tackle the other stuff and then I'll help you with that Latin. I guess we can get through it together." "It'll take me an hour to do those six pages," grumbled Steve. "I wish Simkins would choke!"
Mr Marriot and Mr Morrice made not any objection, and Mr Hobson and Mr Simkins consented with much delight. Mr Harrel now grew extremely unruly, the wine he had already drunk being thus powerfully aided; and his next project was to make his wife and Cecilia follow his example.
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