And as the Tally-ho was an early coach, they had driven out to
the Peacock to be on the road.
Tom had never been in London, and would have liked to have stopped at
the Belle Savage, where they had been put down by the Star, just at
dusk, that he might have gone roving about those endless, mysterious,
gas-lit streets, which, with their glare and hum and moving crowds,
excited him so that he couldn't talk even. But as soon as he found that
the Peacock arrangement would get him to Rugby by twelve o'clock in the
day, whereas otherwise he wouldn't be there till the evening, all
other plans melted away, his one absorbing aim being to become a public
school-boy as fast as possible, and six hours sooner or later seeming to
him of the most alarming importance.
Tom and his father had alighted at the Peacock at about seven in the
evening; and having heard with unfeigned joy the paternal order, at the
bar, of steaks and oyster-sauce for supper in half an hour, and seen
his father seated cozily by the bright fire in the coffee-room with the
paper in his hand, Tom had run out to see about him, had wondered at all
the vehicles passing and repassing, and had fraternized with the boots
and hostler, from whom he ascertained that the Tally-ho was a tip-top
goer--ten miles an hour including stoppages--and so punctual that all
the road set their clocks by her.
Pages:
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85