VERY HARD CASH.

BT THE AUTHOR OF "IT IS NEVER TOO LATE TO MEND."

CHAPTER II.

A YOUTH, adorned with a blue and yellow
rosette, cried out, in the hearing of Mrs. Dodd,
"I say, they are properly pumped, both crews
are:" then, jumping onto a spoke of her carriage-wheel,
with a slight apology, he announced that
two or three were shut up in the Exeter.

The exact meaning of these two verbs passive
was not clear to Mrs. Dodd: but their intensity
was; she fluttered, and wanted to go to her boy
and nurse him, and turned two most imploring
eyes on Julia, and Julia straightway kissed her
with gentle vehemence, and offered to run and see.

"What, amongst all those young gentlemen,
love? I fear that would not be proper. See, all
the ladies remain apart."  So they kept quiet and
miserable, after the manner of females.

Meantime the Cantab's quick eye had not
deceived him; in each racing boat were two young
gentlemen leaning collapsed over their oars; and
two more, who were in a cloud, and not at all
clear whether they were in this world still, or in
their zeal had pulled into a better. But their
malady was not a rare one in racing boats, and
the remedy always at hand. It combined the
rival systems. Thames was sprinkled in their
faces—Homoeopathy: and brandy in a teaspoon
trickled down their throats—Allopathy: youth
and spirits soon did the rest; and, the moment
their eyes opened, their mouths opened; and, the
moment their mouths opened, they fell a chaffing.

Mrs. Dodd's anxiety and Julia's were relieved
by the appearance of Mr. Edward, in a tweed
shooting-jacket, sauntering down to them, hands
in his pocket, and a cigar in his mouth, placidly
unconscious of their solicitude on his account. He
was received with a little guttural cry of delight;
the misery they had been in about him was duly
concealed from him by both, and Julia asked him
warmly who had won.

"Oh, Cambridge."

"Cambridge!  Why, then, you are beaten?"

"Rather." (Puff.)

"And you can come here with that horrible
calm, and cigar, owning defeat, and puffing
tranquillity, with the same mouth. Mamma, we are
beaten. Beaten! actually."

"Never mind," said Edward, kindly; "you
have seen a capital race, the closest ever known
on this river; and one side or other must lose."

"And if they did not quite win, they very
nearly did," observed Mrs. Dodd, composedly;
then, with heartfelt content, "he is not hurt, and
that is the main thing."

"Well, my Lady Placid, and Mr. Imperturbable,
I am glad neither of your equanimities is
disturbed; but defeat is a Bitter Pill to me."

Julia said this in her earnest voice, and drawing
her scarf suddenly round her, so as almost to
make it speak, digested her Bitter Pill in silence.
During which process several Exeter men caught
sight of Edward, and came round him, and an
animated discussion took place. They began with
asking him how it had happened, and, as he
never spoke in a hurry, supplied him with the
answers. A stretcher had broken in the Exeter.
No, but the Cambridge was a much better-built
boat, and her bottom cleaner. The bow oar of
the Exeter was ill, and not fit for work. Each
of these solutions was advanced and combated
in turn, and then all together. At last the Babel
lulled, and Edward was once more appealed to.

"Well, I will tell you the real truth," said he,
"how it happened." (Puff.)

There was a pause of expectation, for the
young man's tone was that of conviction, knowledge,
and authority.

"The Cambridge men pulled faster than we
did." (Puff.)

The hearers stared and then laughed.

"Come, old fellows," said Edward, "never win
a boat-race on dry land! That is such a plain
thing to do: gives the other side the laugh as
well as the race. I have heard a stretcher or two
told, but I saw none broken. (Puff.) Their boat
is the worst I ever saw, it dips every stroke.
(Puff.) Their strength lies in the crew. It was
a good race and a fair one. Cambridge got a lead
and kept it. (Puff.) They beat us a yard or two
at rowing; but hang it all, don't let them beat
us at telling the truth, not by an inch."  (Puff.)

"All right, old fellow!" was now the cry. One
observed, however, that Stroke did not take the
matter so coolly as Six, for he had shed a tear
getting out of the boat.

"Shed a fiddlestick!" squeaked a little sceptic.

"No," said another, " he didn't quite shed it;
his pride wouldn't let him."

"So he decanted it, and put it by for supper,"
suggested Edward, and puffed.