He glanced at Lord Claud to see if he had heard, but there was no
change in the thoughtful face. His companion appeared lost in his
own reflections, and Tom, dropping a pace behind, looked back to
see who had spoken.
As he had surmised, it was the four bully beaux whom he had met at
the Folly the previous day. So much had happened in the interim,
that Tom could have believed it a week ago. At his look they all
burst into jeering laughter, but it did not appear as though they
desired speech of him, or any sort of encounter, for they plunged
hastily down a side street, and Tom saw that Lord Claud had just
turned his head to see what hindered his companion.
"Pay no heed to drunken roisterers i' the streets, Tom," advised
his mentor; "a quarrel is quicker provoked than mended, except at
the sword's point, and unseemly is brawling at street corners. Yon
fellows bear you some ill will for my threat yesterday. They will
do you a bad turn if the chance offers. They are an evil crew, and
my Lord Mayor has been warned against them ere now; but it is
difficult in these days to give every man his deserts. London would
be depopulated if all who merited it were transported to the
plantations of Virginia."
A little later they met Harry Gay sauntering from one playhouse to
another.
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