"Thanks--thanks!" said George Bethune, as he lit his long clay pipe. "I will see what my granddaughter says when she comes in--unless you would like to use the tickets yourself."
"Oh, no, sir, begging your pardon, sir," was the instant rejoinder. "When I 'ave a evening out I go to the Oxbridge music-'all--perhaps it's vanity, sir--but when Charley Coldstream gets a hangcore, I do like to hear some on 'em call out, 'Says Wolseley, says he!' Ah, sir, that was the proudest moment of my life when I see Charley Coldstream come on the stage and begin to sing verse after verse, and the people cheering; and I owed it all to you, sir; it was you, sir, as advised me to send it to him----"
"A catching refrain--a catching refrain," said the old gentleman, encouragingly. "Just fitted to get hold of the public ear."
"Why, sir," said Hobson, with a fatuous little chuckle of delight, "this werry afternoon, as I was coming down Park-street, I 'eard a butcher's boy a-singing it--I did indeed, sir--as clear as could be I 'eard the words,
'Says Wolseley, says he, To Arabi, You can fight other chaps, but you can't fight me.'
--every word I 'eard. But would you believe it, sir, when I was in the Oxbridge music-'all I could 'ardly listen, I was so frightened, and my ears a-buzzin, and me 'ardly able to breathe. Lor, sir, that was a experience! Nobody looked at me, and that was a mercy--I couldn't ha' stood it. Even the chairman, as was not more than six yards from me, 'e didn't know who I was, and not being acquainted with him, I couldn't offer him somethink, which I should have considered it a proud honour so to do on sich an occasion. And if I might make so bold, sir----"
"What--more verses?" said Mr. Bethune, good-naturedly. "Well, let's see them. But take a seat, man, take a seat."
Rather timidly he drew a chair in to the table; and then he said with appealing eyes:
"But wouldn't you allow me, sir, to fetch you a little drop of the whiskey--I assure you it's the best!"
"Oh, very well--very well; but bring two tumblers; single drinking is slow work."
In a few seconds those two curiously-assorted companions--the one massive and strong-built, impressive in manner, measured and emphatic of speech, the other feeble and fawning, at once eager and vacuous, his face ever ready to break into a maudlin smile--were seated in confabulation together, with some sheets of scribbled paper between.