"
"That's all my h'eye. I see you sneak it, and it'll be a month for you.
Sneaking bikes is awful! Mistake be blowed."
"Oh! explain, some of you," said Rogers, frantically, "before I--Grim,
tell the lunatic."
The Amorians were beyond mere laughter now, but the landlord had wit
enough to see that there was some mistake somewhere, and he finally
persuaded the owner of the bicycle to moderate his attentions to the
exasperated Rogers. Grim recovered sufficiently to lift some of the
suspicions from that ill-used youth.
"We thought you were a friend of ours--back view only and at a distance,
you know--but you're not very like him, really, in the face. His name's
Bourne."
"Mine's 'Arris," said the bicycle owner, angrily.
"A very nice name, too;" said Grim, soothingly. "You'd better see what's
the damage to the machine for we must be trotting back to St. Amory's."
Mr. Harris spun the pedals and tried the wheels.
"It's shook up considerable, that's wot it is."
"All right," said Grim, hastily. "Here's a shilling. Give it a drink of
beer."
This was a wretched joke really, but it brightened the face of Mr. Harris
considerably when he heard it, and the loafers departed from their
dispassionate attitude, and became quite friendly. The landlord went in
to draw beer.
A minute afterwards the quartette was heading back for St. Amory's as
hard as it could go, and whenever a halt was called for breath, three of
the cronies collapsed on the earth, and howled at Rogers, who could not
see the joke.
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