Part 9 (1/2)

”Then ask the gentleman to give it to you--you have a right to do what you please with your own property, I imagine?”

It was very evident that this suggestion was not exactly agreeable to Mullins; and although his habitual fear of Lawless was so strong as completely to overpower any dread of what might be the possible consequences of his act, it was not without much hesitation that he approached Oaklands, and asked him for the book, as he wished to lend it to Lawless.

On hearing this Oaklands leisurely turned to the fly-leaf, and, having apparently satisfied himself, by the perusal of the name written thereon, that it really belonged to Mullins, handed it to him without a word. I fancied, however, from the stern expression of his mouth and a slight contraction of the brow, that he was not as insensible to their impertinence as he wished to appear.

Lawless, who had been sitting during this little scene -54--with his eyes closed, as if asleep, now roused himself, and saying, ”Oh, you have got it at last, have you?” began turning over the pages, reading aloud a line or two here and there, while he kept up a running commentary on the text as he did so:--

”Hum! ha! now let's see, here we are--the 'g-i-a-o-u-r,'--that's a nice word to talk about. What does g-i-a-o-u-r spell, Mullins? You don't know? what an a.s.s you are, to be sure!--

'Fair clime, whose every season smiles Benignant o'er those blessed isles'--

blessed isles, indeed; what stuff!--

''Tis Greece, but living Greece no more;'

that would do for a motto for the barbers to stick on their pots of bear's grease!--

'Clime of the unforgotten brave;'

_unforgotten_! yes, I should think so; how the deuce should they be forgotten, when one is bored with them morning, noon, and night, for everlasting, by old Sam, and all the other pastors and masters in the kingdom? Hang me, if I can read this trash; the only poetry that ever was written worth reading is 'Don Juan'.”

He then flung the book down, adding:--

”It's confoundedly cold, I think. Mullins, shut that window.”

This order involved more difficulties in its execution than might at first be imagined. Oaklands, after giving up the book, had slightly altered his position by drawing nearer the window and leaning his elbow on the sill, so that it was impossible to shut it without obliging him to move. Mullins saw this, and seemed for a moment inclined not to obey, but a look and a threatening gesture from Lawless again decided him; and with slow unwilling steps he approached the window, and laid his hand on it, for the purpose of shutting it. As he did so, Oaklands raised his head, and regarded him for a moment with a glance like lightning, his large eyes glaring in the twilight like those of some wild animal, while the red flush of anger rose to his brow, and we all expected to see him strike Mullins to the ground. Conquering himself, however, by a powerful effort of self-control, he folded his arms, and, turning from the window, suffered Mullins to close it without interruption. Still I could perceive, from -55--the distended nostril and quivering lip, that his forbearance was almost exhausted.

”Ah, that's an improvement,” said Lawless; ”I was getting uncommonly chilly. By the way, what an interesting virtue patience is; it is a curious fact in Natural History that some of the lower animals share it with us; for instance, there's nothing so patient as a jack-a.s.s----”

”Except a pig,” put in Mullins; ”they're uncommon--”

”Obstinate,” suggested Coleman.

”Oh, ah! it's obstinate I mean,” replied Mullins. ”Well, you know donkeys are obstinate, like a pig; that's what I meant.”

”Don't be a fool,” said Lawless. ”Deuce take these chairs, I cannot make myself comfortable anyhow--the fact is, I must have three, that's the proper number--give me another, Mullins.”

”I can't find one,” was the answer; ”they are all in use.”

”Can't find one! nonsense,” said Lawless; ”here, take one of these; the gentleman is asleep, and won't object, I daresay.”

When Mullins was shutting the window his head had been so turned as to prevent his observing the symptoms of anger in Oaklands, which had convinced me that he would not bear trifling with much longer.

Presuming, therefore, from the success of his former attacks, that the new pupil was a person who might be insulted with impunity, and actuated by that general desire of retaliation, which is the certain effect bullying produces upon a mean disposition, Mullins proceeded, _con amore_, to fulfil Lawless's injunction. With a sudden s.n.a.t.c.h he withdrew the centre chair, on which Oaklands' legs mainly rested, so violently as nearly to throw them to the ground, a catastrophe which was finally consummated by Lawless giving the other chair a push with his foot, so that it was only by great exertion and quickness that Oaklands was able to save himself from falling.

This was the climax; forbearance merely human could endure no longer: Lawless had obtained his object of disturbing Harry Oaklands'

self-possession, and was now to learn the consequences of his success.

With a bound like that of an infuriated tiger, Oaklands leaped upon his feet, and, das.h.i.+ng Mullins into a corner with such force that he remained lying exactly where he fell, he sprang upon Lawless, seized him by the collar of his coat, and after a short but severe struggle dragged him to the -56--window, which was about eight feet from the ground, threw it open, and taking him in his arms with as much ease as if he had been a child flung him out. He then returned to the corner in which, paralysed with fear, Mullins was still crouching, drew him to the spot from whence he had removed the chair, placed him there upon his hands and knees, and saying, in a stern voice, ”If you dare to move till I tell you, I'll throw you out of the window too,” quietly resumed his former position, with his legs resting upon Mullins' back instead of a chair.

[Ill.u.s.tration: page56 Lawless Finds his Level]