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In about ten minutes he
caught up the other two, just as they were getting out of the town.
"What an age you've been buying a few Easter eggs," said Russell,
laughing; "have you been waiting till the hens laid?"
"No; they are not the _only_ things I've got."
"Well, but you might have got all the grub at the same shop."
"Ay; but I've procured a more refined article. Guess what it is?"
The two boys didn't guess, and Eric said, to enlighten them, "Will you
have a whiff, Monty?"
"A whiff! Oh! I see you've been wasting your tin on cigars--_alias_,
rolled cabbage-leaves. Oh fumose puer!"
"Well, will you have one?"
"If you like," said Montagu, wavering; "but I don't much care to smoke."
"Well, _I_ shall, at any rate," said Eric, keeping off the wind with his
cap, as he lighted a cigar, and began to puff.
They strolled on in silence; the smoking didn't promote conversation,
and Russell thought he had never seen his friend look so ridiculous, and
entirely unlike himself, as he did while strutting along with the weed
in his mouth.


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