e dancing academy, what must he do but
take lessons in the terpsichorean art too?--making himself as popular
with the dancing folks as with the drawing folks, and the jolly king of
his company everywhere. He gave entertainments to his fellow-students
in the upper chambers in Fitzroy Square, which were devoted to his use,
inviting his father and Mr. Binnie to those parties now and then. And
songs were sung, and pipes were smoked, and many a pleasant supper
eaten. There was no stint: but no excess. No young man was ever seen
to quit those apartments the worse, as it is called, for liquor. Fred
Bayham's uncle the Bishop could not be more decorous than F. B. as
he left the Colonel's house, for the Colonel made that one of the
conditions of his son's hospitality, that nothing like intoxication
should ensue from it. The good gentleman did not frequent the parties of
the juniors. He saw that his presence rather silenced the young men; and
left them to themselves, confiding in Clive's parole, and went away to
play his honest rubber of whist at the Club. And many a time he heard
the young fellows' steps tramping by his bedchamber door, as he lay
wakeful within, happy to think his son was happy.

CHAPTER XVIII. New Companions

Clive used to give droll accounts of the young disciples at Gandish's,
who were of various ages and conditions, and in whose company the young
fellow took his place with that good temper and gaiety which have seldom
deserted him in life, and have put him at ease wherever his fate has
led him. He is, in truth, as much at home in a fine drawing-room as in a
public-house parlour; and can talk as pleasantly to the polite mistress
of the mansion, as to the jolly landlady dispensing her drinks from her
bar. Not one of the Gandishites but was after a while well inclined to
the young fellow; from Mr. Chivers, the senior pupil, down to the little
imp Harry Hooker, who knew as much mischief at twelve years old, and
could draw as cleverly as many a student of five-and-twenty; and Bob
Trotter, the diminutive fag of the studio, who ran on all the young
men's errands, and fetched them in apples, oranges, and walnuts. Clive
opened his eyes with wonder when he first beheld these simple feasts,
and the pleasure with which some of the young men partook of them. They
were addicted to polonies; they did not disguise their love for Banbury
cakes; they made bets in ginger-beer, and gave and took the odds in that
frothin