Yet this man, although
his hands were generally in his pockets, had not enough sense of their
linings to feel that continuance, usage, institution, orderly sequence,
heredity, and such like, were the buttons of his coat and the texture of
his breeches, and the warmth of his body inside them. Therefore he never
could hold aloof from the Free and Frisky gatherings, and accepted the
chair upon Bumper-nights, when it was a sinecure benefice.
This was a Bumper-night, and in the chair sat Mr. Swipes, discharging
gracefully the arduous duties of the office, which consisted mainly
in calling upon members for a speech, a sentiment, or a song, and in
default of mental satisfaction, bodily amendment by a pint all round.
But as soon as Dan Tugwell entered the room, the Free and Friskies with
one accord returned to loftier business. Mr. Swipes, the gay Liber of
the genial hour, retired from the chair, and his place was taken by a
Liberal--though the name was not yet invented--estranged from his own
godfather. This was a hard man, who made salt herrings, and longed to
cure everything fresh in the world.
Dan, being still a very tender youth, and quite unaccustomed to public
speaking, was abashed by these tokens of his own importance, and
heartily wished that he had stopped at home. It never occurred to
his simple mind that his value was not political, but commercial; not
"anthropological," but fishy, the main ambition of the Free and Frisky
Club having long been the capture of his father.
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