I like you because
you bring to my jaded senses a whiff of the free air of field and
forest, as well as a message from one to whom I owe much. I am sick
to death of the inanities of the dandies and fops of the town.
Shall we be friends and comrades, good Tom? I trow you might do
worse than make your Mentor of me--little though I look the part of
the preceptor of Telemachus!"
Tom could scarce believe his ears at this proposition; he blushed
and stammered almost as though it were some fair lady wooing him to
friendship. Lord Claud laughed at his embarrassment, and presently,
taking up one of the notes beside him, threw it across to Tom,
saying:
"Read that, my young friend; I have a reason just at this moment
why I would fain have a trusty friend beside me. What! thou canst
not make sense of the jargon! Well, it is jargon; in that thou art
right, honest Tom. Men talk in a fashion which fools might gibe at.
But 'tis the fashion, the fashion, and what would you? Be i' the
fashion--or perish! That is the choice before us."
"But how can I serve you, my lord?" asked Tom eagerly.
"Hast ever taken part in a duel, good fellow?" asked Lord Claud,
with a keen glance at the stalwart youth.
"I have fought many a battle in play and in earnest," answered Tom,
"with my fists, with the sword, and with the quarterstaff.
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