Archie's Mistake Part 5

"Then you can go without," answered Christopher, deeply offended.

"I'm not going to offer it to you again, nor anything else either, you great hulking killjoy."

He drank off his own beer, and then had some more, and some more again.

Walter began to feel really frightened now, for Chris was one of those childish people who, having once begun drinking, cannot stop themselves from taking more than is good for them.

But on this occasion, to his comrade's surprise, he did stop before long.

"It's no good for me to try and persuade him," thought Walter; "it 'ud only make him go the other way. I _wish_ I hadn't gone with him; it's quite spoilt my day. I didn't get a holiday and come all this way from home just to spend the afternoon in a stuffy public-house, nor on the pavement outside, neither. It's six o'clock--there's the clock striking.--Chris, we shall only just get back to the palace in time to meet Mr. Richardson," he said aloud, beginning to walk very fast. "You know he's got all the tickets--we can't go without him."

"All right--plenty o' time," rejoined Chris, speaking rather thickly, and lagging behind in a most irritating way.

Walter thought he never should get him to the gate, but they reached it at last. He thought it was the same man and the same entrance they had come in by before, but really both were quite different. The gatekeeper said at once,--

"Where's your money? But you can only stay five minutes."

"Oh, we paid this morning," replied Chris. "Don't you remember a big party with red rosettes on?"

"You can't come in again, anyhow, without paying. And _you_ haven't no red rosettes."

"Yes, I have; it's in my pocket," said Walter, beginning to feel for it. But, alas! it was gone--drawn out, most likely, with his handkerchief.

"Why did you make me take it off?" he said crossly. "Get out yours, Chris, and show it."

"Mine? Threw the old thing away hours ago. Not such a fool as I look,"

answered Chris rudely.--"I'm going through here, so you can just stop your row," he continued insolently to the gatekeeper, with a vague idea of obtaining admiration from the crowds now coming out through the turnstile.

The gatekeeper looked at him contemptuously for a moment, and then gave a little whistle. Instantly two very tall policemen appeared.

"Just turn these two chaps out, will you?" said he. "They're regular holiday-keepers, they are. Been at the Palace Arms, I should say, most of the day."

"Now then, you clear out," said the policemen, with voice and manner that even Chris dared not disregard.

"Please, we want to go to the station. We're to meet the others to go by the half-past six train," said Walter desperately.

"You must look sharp, then--it's just off. There, be off down those steps as hard as you can split."

Walter obeyed. In his anxiety he forgot all about Chris; and not even when he reached the bottom of the steps, and caught sight of Mr.

Richardson's troubled countenance looking for the truants from one of the carriage windows, did he recollect his friend.

The platform was crowded with people, and though Walter could see the rector, the latter could not distinguish him. If he had but worn the red badge upon his shoulder, matters might even yet have gone well; but, as it was, all Walter's efforts to shoulder his way through the ma.s.ses of people only brought him to the front of the platform as the train steamed off!

At the last moment of all, Mr. Richardson's eye fell upon him, and he called out something, but Walter could not hear what it was.

A feeling of despair came over him as he turned back towards the steps. He had just remembered Chris.

"What _shall_ we do?" he thought. "I haven't a penny, and Chris can't have much left either. Oh, there he is!" as he caught sight of the other lad's ill-tempered, flushed face at the foot of the steps.

"You sneak!" cried Chris angrily; "what d'ye mean by leaving me in the lurch like this?"

"But you wouldn't hurry, Chris; and as it is, we've lost the train--that was ours that's just gone. What are we to do now? Have you got any money?"

"No; you know I ain't, else I shouldn't ha' left the 'public' so quick. It's all your fault," answered Chris savagely, the beer mounting to his head more and more every minute, and he as usual growing more unpleasant and ill-tempered as his power of self-restraint grew weaker.

Walter was wise enough not to try arguing with or blaming him. He knew it would be worse than useless.

It was now getting dark, and the station was being lighted up. By some happy chance, Walter found his way out of it, and into the town, still holding on to Chris.

"Leave go," said the latter roughly. "I ain't a baby, nor a perambulator neither, to be pushed about by you."

He walked, or rather stumbled, along some way without help, Walter feeling utterly disgusted both with himself and his friend.

"But he shan't be my friend no more after to-day--I've made up my mind as to that," he said to himself. "Father's often told me he wasn't a good companion, and I know I didn't believe him. I thought Chris was a fine fellow, as really knew more than other folks--he always talked as if he did--but I see now 'twas all talk, and he ain't near so sensible nor so pleasant as some of the other chaps. I ain't going to tell tales, but if Mr. Richardson could see him now, I don't think Chris 'ud stay much longer in the choir."

By this time they had reached the Palace Arms again, and Christopher once more turned in at the door.

"What's he doing that for?" thought Walter, "when he said he hadn't a farthing left. _I_ shan't go in--I've had enough of it."

So he stayed in the street. He could hear voices--and very angry ones--within. They rose louder and louder, and then there seemed a sort of struggle.

Walter's anxiety to know what was going on had just conquered his reluctance to be mixed up in anything like a drunken row, when the door was hastily opened, and several men, among them the landlord of the tavern, appeared, all pus.h.i.+ng and shoving at Chris in order to turn him out. They succeeded at last, and a very disgusting spectacle he presented as he half stood, half lounged against a lamp-post. His hat was gone--some one threw it out to him a minute later--his coat was torn, his collar and tie were all crooked, his eyes were bloodshot, and his expression was a mixture of fury and helplessness.

More than ever did Walter wish he was not obliged to claim companions.h.i.+p with this degraded, low-looking man.

As he stood watching the impotent rage with which Chris kicked the lamp-post, as though he thought it was one of the enemies he wished to punish, a policeman came suddenly round the corner. Chris made a sort of rush at him with an angry yell.

"Hullo! Drunk and disorderly, are you? Come along o' me," said the constable coolly, quietly slipping a pair of handcuffs over Chris's wrists. The latter, with renewed pa.s.sion, struggled vehemently, but the policeman took no notice; he merely led Chris along, without uttering a word. It was not far to the police-station. When they had got there, Chris's captor suddenly observed Walter, who had followed at a little distance.

"What do _you_ want?" he asked. "A night in the lock-up?"

He spoke in jest, and was very much astonished when Walter answered,--

"Yes, please."

"What? In here?" said the policeman in amazement, looking at the respectable, quiet lad. "Why, man, it's a sort of a jail."

"I don't _want_ to go there, of course," replied Walter; "but me and him"--pointing to Chris--"has got lost, and if he's going there, why, I s'pose I must too."

"Is this your pal, then? You don't know how to choose your mates, I should say," observed the policeman. "'Tis too late for you to see a magistrate, or you could speak to Colonel Law. Where d'ye come from?"

Walter related his story, Chris meanwhile sitting on the steps almost asleep.

"It seems to me it's all your fault for not doing as the gentleman told you, but going by such as he," said the constable, looking disdainfully at Chris. "Now, look here," he added; "if you'll wait at the door while I take in this chap and speak to the superintendent, when I've done I'll take you to the colonel, and p'raps he'll see you."

Walter thanked him, and waited patiently till he reappeared.

They soon reached the colonel's house, and were admitted to see him, when the policeman recounted Walter's adventures. The magistrate was a tall, thin old man, with a bristling white moustache, and a very sharp, quick manner.

"Well," he said to Walter, "if your story is true, you've been a very foolish fellow, and quite spoilt what might have been a very pleasant day. You can go and sit in the kitchen and have some supper, while I telegraph to your rector. If he says it is all as you say, I will lend you the money to go back by the 9.30 train."