my advice.
"I shall back both Dainty Dick and The Philosopher," he said, when I had finished; "come down to Wright's with me, and I will have a fiver on each of them. I don't get tips like these every day."
He put on his cap and tried to persuade me to go with him, but I was sick of the man, he seemed to me to be simply throwing his money away; so I went back to my rooms, and finding that Murray had been to Armitage's lecture, I borrowed his notes and copied them into my book, though Murray said, and I thought, that I was wasting my time.
I did not see Ward again until after five o'clock, when he brought an evening paper and a cheerful countenance into my rooms and told me that Dainty Dick had won the Flying Welter, and The Philosopher had been second. "Two pretty good tips, my boy," he said; "nothing but your obstinacy prevented your being on."
Collier had been having tea with me, and was to all appearances asleep when Ward came in, but without opening his eyes he said, "Betting is a mug's game. What price did this brute start at?"
"I don't know until I get the next evening paper, but it is sure to be a good price; there were twelve runners, and they are sure to have backed The Philosopher."
"You are a rotter," Collier stated; "if you are going to stay here, don't talk racing to us. I don't know anything about it and don't want to."
"I know a real hot thing for the Manchester November Handicap, been kept for months," Ward said quite cheerfully.
"We don't want to hear it," I said.
"I am thundering well not going to tell you anyway. You two men ought to be in bed, I am going to find some one who is not half asleep," Ward answered, and he went away with unnecessary noise.
Both Collier and I had promised to go to Lambert's rooms after dinner on that evening; he had asked us because he said we ought to have a talk about the freshers' wine, but we knew well enough that he intended to twang his wretched banjo and sing little love songs which made the night hideous. If only he would have sung comic things he might not have caused such wholesale pain, though I should not like to speak positively upon that point. I did not go to this entertainment immediately after dinner, and when I arrived I found the usual gang, Ward, Dennison and Collier, and one other man who turned out to be Bunny Langham. Everybody except Collier was playing a game of cards called "Bank," the chief merit of which is its simplicity. The dealer puts some money into the pool and deals three cards to each player, who can bet up to the amount in the pool that one of his cards will beat the card which the dealer turns up against him. All that seemed to happen was that Bunny Langham kept on saying, "I'll go the whole shoot," and then complained violently of his luck. It was no game for me and I looked to Collier for amusement, but he had got a bottle of French plums in his lap and was engaged in trying to get them out with a fork which was too short for the job. The banjo had been put back into its case, and though it was not amusing to see four men play cards and Collier over-eating himself, I was content to see the banjo put away for the night, so I got the most comfortable chair I could grasp and waited until somebody thought it was time to go to bed. I sat facing Bunny Langham, and as there was nothing else to do I watched him losing his money, and I should think he was what is called a very good loser. He was a most curious-looking man and wore eyeglasses which did not seem powerful enough, for when he wanted to take any money from the pool or—which happened more frequently—pay something into it, he took them off and put up a single eyeglass which he managed with the skill of one to whom it was a necessity and not an inconvenience. His complexion was pink and white, and he had a small patch of piebald hair over his right car, which in some lights looked like a rosette. But in spite of his odd appearance there was something attractive in his face; it must, I think, have been either his expression or his forehead, for it certainly was not his chin, and a nose never looks its best when shadowed by pince-nez. Dennison was the only winner at the table, and smiled benignly round him when he was not lighting his pipe. Lambert threw his money about with a magnificent air more comical than impressive, and Jack Ward seemed to be the one man whose attention was riveted on the game. When a remark was made on any subject except bad luck, Ward broke in asking some one how much they were going to stake or telling Bunny, who never seemed to know what was going to happen next, that they were waiting for him. I thought "Bank" must be the dreariest of all card games, but it was nearly twelve o'clock before Langham got up and said he must go. When the game was over I asked Ward how much he had won over Dainty Dick, and at once there was a roar of laughter.
"He lost over three pounds," Dennison said
"But how did he manage that?" I asked, for my knowledge of racing being limited I did not understand how he could have backed the winner of this race and yet lost money.
"Why Dainty Dick started at three to one on, so he only won about thirty shillings, and he lost a fiver backing The Philosopher. I thought he had made a fortune by the way he was talking at dinner," Dennison answered.
For a moment Ward looked furious, and the exultant way in which Dennison told me what had happened must have annoyed him tremendously. I felt that Dennison with his seraphic smile was a much bigger idiot than Ward, so I said, "Well, I can't see where the joke comes in, I think it is thundering rough luck," which remark I considered rather noble, for I did think that Ward had been scored off beautifully, only Dennison gibing at him was such a sickening sight that I thought I would put off the few words I meant having with him about Dainty Dick until we were alone.
After Bunny Langham had gone we began to discuss the freshers' wine, but Jack Ward looked so down on his luck that I let him arrange what he liked, though as Collier said to me afterwards, Ward only thought he was deciding everything while Dennison really managed the whole affair and simply twisted him round his fingers.
"Dennison is as clever as a wagon load of monkeys," Collier complained, "he looks like a baby and is as cunning as a Chinaman. I wonder how we can put up with him."
I wondered, too, and I should think everybody else, except Dennison himself, found it difficult to explain his popularity. For he was popular, and since no other reason occurs to me I expect the fact that he was always ready to play the piano must have helped him, Lambert on his banjo was enough to depress a crowd of Sunday-school children at their annual treat, but Dennison played the kind of music which made Collier, Ward and me, who were not exactly musical, feel that we could sing quite well. At Cliborough I had established a record by being the first boy who had tried to get into the school choir and failed, but the man who made me sing "Ah, ah, ah," until I really could not go on any longer had told me that I should have a voice some day. Perhaps he said that out of kindness, but when Dennison played I always remembered it, and forgot that when I sang in church people sitting in front of me had been known to look round as if hymns were not made to be sung.
If discussion beforehand helps to make an entertainment successful our freshers' wine ought to have been a colossal success. For days the thing seemed to pervade the air and I got horribly tired of it, though Collier, who had been given rooms which compared with mine were palatial, had more reason to be sick than I had. Collier had not only a certain amount of space at his disposal but also a piano, and if either of us had been any use at guessing we might have known that his rooms would have been chosen. I may as well say now that if any one of the freshers who had been invited had also possessed a little sense Collier's rooms would not have been chosen, but the last thing we thought of was a row, until we got into one, which is one of the advantages of being a fresher.
Dennison and Ward finally asked about fifteen men to the wine, and on the appointed night we met in Collier's rooms. It was perhaps not so great a privilege to receive an invitation as we thought it was, because each man who accepted had to pay more than the thing was worth. However, there was no doubt that it was well done, Ward had been to Spinney's shop in the Turl and had benefited by Spinney's experience, and Dennison with the assistance of Collier's scout,
