Chapter 6

           

           Ispentthenightonashelfofthehillside,intheleeofaboulderwheretheheathergrewlongandsoft.Itwasacoldbusiness,forIhadneithercoatnorwaistcoat.ThesewereinMrTurnbull’skeeping,aswasScudder’slittlebook,mywatchandworstofallmypipeandtobaccopouch.Onlymymoneyaccompaniedmeinmybelt,andabouthalfapoundofgingerbiscuitsinmytrouserspocket.

           Isuppedoffhalfthosebiscuits,andbywormingmyselfdeepintotheheathergotsomekindofwarmth.Myspiritshadrisen,andIwasbeginningtoenjoythiscrazygameofhide-and-seek.SofarIhadbeenmiraculouslylucky.Themilkman,theliteraryinnkeeper,SirHarry,theroadman,andtheidioticMarmie,wereallpiecesofundeservedgoodfortune.SomehowthefirstsuccessgavemeafeelingthatIwasgoingtopullthethingthrough.

           MychieftroublewasthatIwasdesperatelyhungry.WhenaJewshootshimselfintheCityandthereisaninquest,thenewspapersusuallyreportthatthedeceasedwas“well-nourished”.Irememberthinkingthattheywouldnotcallmewell-nourishedifIbrokemyneckinabog-hole.IlayandtorturedmyselfforthegingerbiscuitsmerelyemphasizedtheachingvoidwiththememoryofallthegoodfoodIhadthoughtsolittleofinLondon.TherewerePaddock’scrispsausagesandfragrantshavingsofbacon,andshapelypoachedeggshowoftenIhadturnedupmynoseatthem!Therewerethecutletstheydidattheclub,andaparticularhamthatstoodonthecoldtable,forwhichmysoullusted.

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