say Lindsay will askus; but I must be back in town to-night, and it would delay me to accepthis invitation, and perhaps we may fall in with some acquaintance whomyou may like to ask to dine with us." The Christopher was an hotel,Reginald found, much patronised by the boys and their friends. MrLindsay was in school, but Mrs Lindsay was at home, and received themvery kindly. Reginald thought her a very nice person, and so she was,and contributed much, as a lady always can if she sets the right wayabout it, to make the house thoroughly comfortable and pleasant to itsinmates. She told Reginald that his room was ready for him. How proudhe felt to find that he was to have one entirely to himself! His thingswere at once taken up to it, and he begged the Squire to come up andhave a look at it. It was not very large; but the walls were neatlypapered, and it looked perfectly clean. Neither was the furniture of agrand description. There was a bedstead, which, when turned up, lookedlike a cupboard, and a sideboard of painted deal, a small oak chest ofdrawers, or rather a bureau, in the upper part of which cups andsaucers, and plates, and a metal teapot, and a few knives and forks anda muffin-dish, were arranged, and there was a deal table covered with ared cloth, and two rather hard horsehair-bottomed chairs.
"Here we are, sir," said Reginald, as the maidservant with considerablediscretion retired, that the young gentleman might look about him. "Sitdown and make yourself at home; I feel so already. The place hascapabilities, and I hope that the next time you pay me a visit, you willfind that I have taken advantage of them. I will get some pictures, andhang them up, and some pegs for my hats find fishing-rods, and hooks formy bats, and then a Dutch oven, and a frying-pan, and a better kettlethan that will be useful in winter."
"Perhaps you will not object to an arm-chair or a sofa," observed theSquire.
"An arm-chair, certainly," answered Reginald, "thank you; but withregard to a sofa, they are all very well for women. I think, however,that if a fellow's legs ache, he may put them up on another chair, andif he has got an arm-chair to lean back in, he will do very well."
"You are right, Reginald; I hate luxurious habits," said the Squire."Do not give way to them. They are not so bad in themselves as inconsequence of what they lead to--self-indulgence and indolence: this isthe vice of the present day. But come along, we have plenty to do."
The Squire, leaving word that he would call again, took Reginald backinto the town. They were getting hungry, so very naturally theyproceeded in the first place to the well-remembered sock-shop, known bythe world at large as a pastry-cook's. A supply of ices and strawberrymesses was at once ordered and discussed with great gusto, buns andother cakes giving some consistency to the repast. Who would haveexpected to see Squire Warrender, of Blessingham, who had not perhapsfor years taken any other than a solid meat luncheon, with bottledstout, or a biscuit and a glass of wine, lunching off sweet cakes andstrawberries and cream? But the truth was, that he did not feel justthen a bit like Squire Warrender, of Blessingham; he was once morelittle Reginald Warrender, somewhat of a pickle, and very fond of thosesaid luscious articles. To be sure another Reginald Warrender stood byhis side; but he was, as it were, a part of himself, or it might hehimself, or a younger companion. At all events he felt a great deal tooyoung just then to be anybody's father, and was quite surprised that theyoung women behind the counter did not recognise him. Surely they werethe very same he must have known. While they were eating away, an oldlady with spectacles on her nose, and a high white cap on her head, cameinto the shop.
"I have come with this youngster here to show him about the place," saidthe Squire. "This is a shop I used to know well once upon a time; butthe young ladies here don't seem to recognise me."
"I should think not," said the old lady, laughing, as did the youngones. "Perhaps I might though, if I knew your name. What years wereyou here?"
The Squire told her.
"I was about their age then, and stood where they now stand," sheobserved, as she went into an inner room, and brought down a longishparchment-covered volume. "Oh, I now remember you perfectly well,Master Warrender," said she, turning over the pages, and evidently alsoforgetting how many years had rolled away since the Squire was MasterWarrender. "You were a very good customer of ours, that you were,indeed. You had a good healthy appetite: six dozen oranges, three dozenqueencakes, a couple of dozen hot-cross buns for breakfast on oneoccasion. I suppose you didn't eat them all yourself though. And now Isee you left owing us a little account. It was no great matter; onlyfifteen and sixpence for cherries and strawberries."
"Sold, papa!" whispered Reginald, aside, and highly amused. "It ispleasant, however, to be able to pay off old scores."
"I fear that the account is too correct," said the Squire. "Let me see,how was it? Ah, I recollect--a wager, I am afraid. Cleveland and I.We tried to see which could eat the most in a given time. Don't you goand do such a silly thing though, Reginald, or I'll disinherit you. Heought to have paid, for I beat him; but I ordered them. Well, I willpay you now with interest."
"Oh no, no, sir, thank you; I could not think of it," said the old lady.
However, as she said the words in a tone which evidently did not meanthat she positively would not receive the amount, the Squire pulled outa sovereign, and handed it to her.
"There is the sum with interest--very small interest though," heobserved. "I wish that I could pay all the debts of my younger days aseasily."
The old lady was highly pleased, and promised to stand Reginald'sfriend, and to give him good advice whenever he would come to her.
"And I wish, sir," said she, "that I could as easily get in all thedebts owing to me."
Thereon the Squire took occasion to impress very strongly on his son theimportance of not running into debt. "If you cannot pay for a thing,you should not get it," he remarked. "Never mind how much you may wantit. You may fancy that you can pay some day; but before that day comesyou will have wanted several other things, all of which have to be paidfor out of this sum in prospect, which may possibly never come at all.Then one person will press for payment, and then another, and then youwill think that there can be no harm in borrowing, and the chances arethat you become the slave of the person from whom you borrow. Take myadvice, Reginald, keep out of debt and be free. I have spoken only ofworldly-wise motives for keeping out of debt, but it is morally wrong--it is dishonest. The Bible says, `Owe no man anything.' That is right,depend on it. Some fellows fancy that it is fine and gentlemanly to runinto debt, and that it is a spirited thing to bilk a tradesman. Ithink, and I am sure you will, that it is one of the most ungentlemanlyand blackguardly things to deprive any man of his just rights, not tosay unchristianlike and despicable."
This conversation took place as the Squire and his son were walkingtowards the school-house. They walked about the noble edifice, underthe fine arched gateway, and beneath its venerable walls. Then theylooked out upon the rich green meadows, and the avenue of lofty elms,and Reginald thought it a remarkably fine place, and began already tofeel proud at being able to call himself an Eton boy. As the boys werestill "up," that is, in school, the Squire proposed walking down thetown to have a look at the Castle, and some of the old places on theway. As they were leaving the building, they met an old man with avehicle loaded with tarts and buns, and cakes of all sorts. As theypassed close to him, he looked hard at the Squire, and said, "Begpardon, sir, but I think I know you, sir, though it is a good many yearssince you ate any of my buns."
"And I am very certain that I know you, old fellow," answered theSquire, highly delighted. "You are Spankie himself, or I am very muchmistaken."
"You are right, sir, the same, and that young gentleman is your son justcome up here; I should have known him in a moment from his likeness toyou," said old Spankie. "Never forget anybody I have once known. Now Ithink of it, were not you one of those young gentlemen who played thetrick to Mr Fowler, I think it was, or one of the masters of his time?What a good joke it was! Ha, ha, ha!"
"What joke do you mean?" aske
d the Squire. "I remember no good jokethat I ever played. I am afraid that I had not wits enough."
"I'll tell you, sir; if you were not one of them, it was somebody else,"answered old Spankie, who probably knew that well enough, but wanted totell a good story to gain time that he might find out, if possible, whothe old Etonian was--a fact of which he was in reality perfectlyignorant. "Two of the young gentlemen, tall big lads for their ages,took it into their heads to dress up as foreigners of distinction, withmoustaches and beards, and corked eyebrows, and spectacles, and largeshirt-collars, with no end of gold chains, and such flash waistcoats,all of satin, and covered over with green and yellow and