Those might be his manners, even when not aching. Still, it seems, a
feather would have turned the scale in his favour, for she whispered, "I
have a great mind; if I could but catch his eye."
While feminine pity and social reserve were holding the balance so
nicely, and nonsensically, about half a split straw, one of the racing
four-oars went down close under the Berkshire bank. "London!" observed
Hardie's adherent.
"What, are you there, old fellow?" murmured Hardie, in a faint voice.
"Now, that is like a friend, a real friend, to sit by me, and not make a
row. Thank you! thank you!"
Presently the Cambridge four-oar passed: it was speedily followed by the
Oxford; the last came down in mid-stream, and Hardie eyed it keenly as it
passed. "There," he cried, "was I wrong? There is a swing for you; there
is a stroke. I did not know what a treasure I had got sitting behind me."
The ladies looked, and lo! the lauded Stroke of the four-oar was their
Edward.
"Sing out and tell him it is not like the sculls. We must fight for the
lead at starting, and hold it with his eyelids when he has got it.
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