Little Mr. Bouncer; and Tales of College Life Little Mr Bouncer and His Friend Verdant Green. Cuthbert Bede
Fellows, whose tantalising lot it is to look and admire, but not to marry, under pain of resigning their incomes. So at many windows there were pleasant visions of dimpled cheeks and rosy lips and flashing eyes, and through many a casement came the sound of girlish laughter; but these sights and sounds were absent from Mr. Bouncer's rooms.
"I could n't get the Mum and Fanny to come," he said, referring to his mother and sister; "though I held out, as an inducement, that I would introduce them to you, Giglamps. That will be a treat in store, won't it? You must come and see us during the Long at our little shop in the country." In another day the Long Vacation would begin; and just at the time when the chief portion of its population was about to run away from it, Oxford was looking at its best.
The confused talk at Mr. Bouncer's breakfast-table was somewhat settling down into more regular conversation, as pipes and cigars were lighted, and a perfumed cloud began to float through the room and mingle its scent with the aroma of coffee and spiced ale. Huz
and Buz were making themselves happy with platefuls of chicken-bones, and their master was lolling at his ease, with his legs stretched over the arm of his easy-chair. Verdant Green and the greater portion of the guests lingered at the table, while others looked out of the windows, enjoying a smoke and the prospect—the latter including pleasant glimpses of the young ladies who appeared at the opened windows of rooms whose owners were, in that respect, more fortunate than was little Mr. Bouncer.
But what was said on that occasion by himself and his friends must be told in another chapter.
CHAPTER VI.
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CHAPTER VI.
LITTLE MR. BOUNCER ENTERTAINS HIS FRIENDS, AND IS ENTERTAINED BY THEM.
In the interval, Brazenface would be given up to scouts and bed-makers; and while Mr. Robert Filcher would stand as umpire at a scouts' cricket-match, Mrs. Tester would preside at a tea-party in the porter's lodge. Workmen would also be whistling and shouting for "mortar" in the passages and on the staircases where the "mortar-boards" were daily seen during Term-time; the necessary repairs would be effected; the burnt plank where a lighted cigar had been dropped, and whereby the College had been nearly set on fire, would be replaced; the yellow coruscation would be removed from the wall where an egg that had been playfully shied at a Freshman's head had missed its mark but left a stain; whitewash would also obliterate the various works of art, executed in burnt cork, on the
staircase walls, by little Mr. Bouncer and other ameteurs, in which grandeur of effect and satirical expression were sought for, rather than delicacy of execution and flattery of portraiture; the smashed panel, through which a small but highly obnoxious Freshman had been propelled, would be made good; twisted gas-pipes would be repaired, and Brazenface would be put into apple-pie order.
Though it seemed to stand in little need of improvement, as it looked at the present moment, with the bright June sun shining full upon it, and with the unwonted bits of gay colour gleaming here and there from the dresses of the ladies, as they appeared at some of the mullioned windows, or strolled across those grass-plats which might not be trodden on by the feet of undergraduates. Cheery talk and laughter were also borne to the ear from Quads and rooms; and a due proportion of it came from the room of little Mr. Bouncer. Huz and Buz had finished their breakfast of chicken-bones, and had been much annoyed by Mr. Smalls, who had been vainly endeavouring to teach them to sit up and hold short pipes in their mouths—a proceeding which they had resented with much dudgeon.
"They think it low," said their master, "to do tricks like Circus dogs, even though you held out the inducement of acting as Clown. You 'd better let them alone. They 've a long journey to take to-morrow, and it won't do to upset their feelings to-day. Help your self to liquors, Smalls, and don't interfere with the enjoyments of the animals. I shall be glad to hear your views on things in general, particularly on the political condition of Europe." And little Mr. Bouncer made himself comfortable, with his legs over the arm of his easy chair.
"Well; you know old Peter?" replied Mr. Smalls, as though he were hastening to comply with his host's request.
"What! Peter the Great? Yes; I 've known him from a baby. Fire away, my boy," said Mr. Bouncer.
"Old Peter, the cake-man, is the party referred to," explained Mr. Smalls—"the old fellow who is allowed to come into the men's rooms. Well, the other day, Tom Higgins was in his bed-room, and heard old Peter come into the other room. Tom kept quiet, and old Peter evidently thought that there was no one at home. Presently, Tom heard old Peter taking the stopper out
of a decanter that was on the table, and holding a monologue dialogue—if I may use the expression—the while he helped himself to the port. But he did so in a very original way. All the while the performance was going on, old Peter was saying, 'Take a glass of wine, Peter.' 'Thankee, sir; I 've no objection; here 's your health, sir.' 'Do you like this wine, Peter?' 'Very much indeed, sir, thank you.' 'Then take another glass, Peter.' 'Much obliged, sir.' 'Take another glass, Peter; it won't hurt you.' 'Well; I don't think it will, sir; so I drinks to-wards you.' Here Tom thought it time to interfere; or, perhaps, old Peter would have kept up the imaginary dialogue until he had finished the decanter; so he knocked down a chair in his bed-room, and, under cover of the noise, old Peter bolted."
"The old rascal!" exclaimed Charles Larkyns, who was puffing at a long "Churchwarden" which he considered to be the very king of pipes, and that every inch of its "yard of clay"—if it were a true Broseley—was priceless. "The old rascal! But they are all alike, whether cake-men or scouts. It was only last week that I missed some of my best weeds, and I fancied that Robert had bagged them. I did not quite like to tax him with making free with them; but, at a venture, I said, 'How do you like my tobacco, Robert?' Instead of being taken aback by the question, he at once replied, with admirable coolness and self-possession, 'Not so much as the last lot you had, sir; they're a trifle too strong for summer smoking.' Now, I call that slightly cool. Perhaps the next thing will be that we are expected to supply our scouts with cigars."
"And submit the brands to them before they condescend to make a selection," suggested Lord Buttonhole's son, Mr. Flexible Shanks. "What a cheesy idea!"
"That reminds me," said Verdant Green, "that I intended to ask you if it was the custom to do what Mrs. Tester, my bed-maker, has done. The lock of my tea-chest has been out of order for some time; in fact, ever since Mrs. Tester used it in showing me how to make tea. I told Robert to get it mended; but I suppose that he forgot to do so."
"His memory would be safe to be bad on that point," observed little Mr. Bouncer. "It's an amiable weakness of his."
"So," continued Verdant, "as I found that