He came and sat down on things, just when they were wanted to be packed;
and he laboured under the fixed belief that, whenever Harris or George
reached out their hand for anything, it was his cold, damp nose that they
wanted. He put his leg into the jam, and he worried the teaspoons, and
he pretended that the lemons were rats, and got into the hamper and
killed three of them before Harris could land him with the frying-pan.
Harris said I encouraged him. I didn't encourage him. A dog like that
don't want any encouragement. It's the natural, original sin that is
born in him that makes him do things like that.
The packing was done at 12.50; and Harris sat on the big hamper, and said
he hoped nothing would be found broken. George said that if anything was
broken it was broken, which reflection seemed to comfort him. He also
said he was ready for bed.
We were all ready for bed. Harris was to sleep with us that night, and
we went upstairs.
We tossed for beds, and Harris had to sleep with me. He said:
"Do you prefer the inside or the outside, J.?"
I said I generally preferred to sleep INSIDE a bed.
Harris said it was old.
George said:
"What time shall I wake you fellows?"
Harris said:
"Seven."
I said:
"No - six," because I wanted to write some letters.
Harris and I had a bit of a row over it, but at last split the
difference, and said half-past six.
"Wake us at 6.30, George," we said.
George made no answer, and we found, on going over, that he had been
asleep for some time; so we placed the bath where he could tumble into it
on getting out in the morning, and went to bed ourselves.
CHAPTER V.
MRS. P. AROUSES US. - GEORGE, THE SLUGGARD. - THE "WEATHER FORECAST"
SWINDLE. - OUR LUGGAGE. - DEPRAVITY OF THE SMALL BOY. - THE PEOPLE GATHER
ROUND US. - WE DRIVE OFF IN GREAT STYLE, AND ARRIVE AT WATERLOO. -
INNOCENCE OF SOUTH WESTERN OFFICIALS CONCERNING SUCH WORLDLY THINGS AS
TRAINS. - WE ARE AFLOAT, AFLOAT IN AN OPEN BOAT.
IT was Mrs. Poppets that woke me up next morning.
She said:
"Do you know that it's nearly nine o'clock, sir?"
"Nine o' what?" I cried, starting up.
"Nine o'clock," she replied, through the keyhole. "I thought you was a-
oversleeping yourselves."
I woke Harris, and told him. He said:
"I thought you wanted to get up at six?"
"So I did," I answered; "why didn't you wake me?"
"How could I wake you, when you didn't wake me?" he retorted. "Now we
shan't get on the water till after twelve. I wonder you take the trouble
to get up at all."
"Um," I replied, "lucky for you that I do. If I hadn't woke you, you'd
have lain there for the whole fortnight."
We snarled at one another in this strain for the next few minutes, when
we were interrupted by a defiant snore from George.
It reminded us, for the first time since our being called, of his
existence.
There he lay - the man who had wanted to know what time he should wake us
- on his back, with his mouth wide open, and his knees stuck up.
I don't know why it should be, I am sure; but the sight of another man
asleep in bed when I am up, maddens me. It seems to me so shocking to
see the precious hours of a man's life - the priceless moments that will
never come back to him again - being wasted in mere brutish sleep.
There was George, throwing away in hideous sloth the inestimable gift of
time; his valuable life, every second of which he would have to account
for hereafter, passing away from him, unused. He might have been up
stuffing himself with eggs and bacon, irritating the dog, or flirting
with the slavey, instead of sprawling there, sunk in soul-clogging
oblivion.
It was a terrible thought. Harris and I appeared to be struck by it at
the same instant. We determined to save him, and, in this noble resolve,
our own dispute was forgotten. We flew across and slung the clothes off
him, and Harris landed him one with a slipper, and I shouted in his ear,
and he awoke.
"Wasermarrer?" he observed, sitting up.
"Get up, you fat-headed chunk!" roared Harris. "It's quarter to ten."
"What!" he shrieked, jumping out of bed into the bath; "Who the thunder
put this thing here?"
We told him he must have been a fool not to see the bath.
We finished dressing, and, when it came to the extras, we remembered that
we had packed the tooth-brushes and the brush and comb (that tooth-brush
of mine will be the death of me, I know), and we had to go downstairs,
and fish them out of the bag. And when we had done that George wanted
the shaving tackle. We told him that he would have to go without shaving
that morning, as we weren't going to unpack that bag again for him, nor
for anyone like him.
He said:
"Don't be absurd. How can I go into the City like this?"
It was certainly rather rough on the City, but what cared we for human
suffering? As Harris said, in his common, vulgar way, the City would
have to lump it.
We went downstairs to breakfast. Montmorency had invited two other dogs
to come and see him off, and they were whiling away the time by fighting
on the doorstep.
