Part 11 (2/2)

He would have ”minded” Noah if he had got hold of him.

He was a good-natured lad, and at school he was always willing for the whole cla.s.s to copy from his slate--indeed he would urge them to do so.

He meant it kindly, but inasmuch as his answers were invariably quite wrong--with a distinctive and inimitable wrongness peculiar to himself--the result to his followers was eminently unsatisfactory; and with the shallowness of youth that, ignoring motives, judges solely from results, they would wait for him outside and punch him.

All his energies went to the instruction of others, leaving none for his own purposes. He would take callow youths to his chambers and teach them to box.

”Now, try and hit me on the nose,” he would say, standing before them in an att.i.tude of defence. ”Don't be afraid. Hit as hard as ever you can.”

And they would do it. And so soon as he had recovered from his surprise, and a little lessened the bleeding, he would explain to them how they had done it all wrong, and how easily he could have stopped the blow if they had only hit him properly.

Twice at golf he lamed himself for over a week, showing a novice how to ”drive”; and at cricket on one occasion I remember seeing his middle stump go down like a ninepin just as he was explaining to the bowler how to get the b.a.l.l.s in straight. After which he had a long argument with the umpire as to whether he was in or out.

He has been known, during a stormy Channel pa.s.sage, to rush excitedly upon the bridge in order to inform the captain that he had ”just seen a light about two miles away to the left”; and if he is on the top of an omnibus he generally sits beside the driver, and points out to him the various obstacles likely to impede their progress.

It was upon an omnibus that my own personal acquaintances.h.i.+p with him began. I was sitting behind two ladies when the conductor came up to collect fares. One of them handed him a sixpence telling him to take to Piccadilly Circus, which was twopence.

”No,” said the other lady to her friend, handing the man a s.h.i.+lling, ”I owe you sixpence, you give me fourpence and I'll pay for the two.”

The conductor took the s.h.i.+lling, punched two twopenny tickets, and then stood trying to think it out.

”That's right,” said the lady who had spoken last, ”give my friend fourpence.”

The conductor did so.

”Now you give that fourpence to me.”

The friend handed it to her.

”And you,” she concluded to the conductor, ”give me eightpence, then we shall be all right.”

The conductor doled out to her the eightpence--the sixpence he had taken from the first lady, with a penny and two halfpennies out of his own bag--distrustfully, and retired, muttering something about his duties not including those of a lightning calculator.

”Now,” said the elder lady to the younger, ”I owe you a s.h.i.+lling.”

I deemed the incident closed, when suddenly a florid gentleman on the opposite seat called out in stentorian tones:--

”Hi, conductor! you've cheated these ladies out of fourpence.”

”'Oo's cheated 'oo out 'o fourpence?” replied the indignant conductor from the top of the steps, ”it was a twopenny fare.”

”Two twopences don't make eightpence,” retorted the florid gentleman hotly. ”How much did you give the fellow, my dear?” he asked, addressing the first of the young ladies.

”I gave him sixpence,” replied the lady, examining her purse. ”And then I gave you fourpence, you know,” she added, addressing her companion.

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