Foker. They met
heavy dragoons of the regiment always quartered at Chatteris; and stopped
and talked about the Baymouth balls, and what a pretty girl was Miss
Brown, and what a dem fine woman Mrs. Jones was. It was in vain that Pen
recalled to his own mind what a stupid ass Foker used to be at school--
how he could scarcely read, how he was not cleanly in his person, and
notorious for his blunders and dulness. Mr. Foker was no more like a
gentleman now than in his school days: and yet Pen felt a secret pride in
strutting down High Street with a young fellow who owned tandems, talked
to officers, and ordered turtle and champagne for dinner. He listened,
and with respect too, to Mr. Foker's accounts of what the men did at the
University of which Mr. F. was an ornament, and encountered a long series
of stories about boat-racing, bumping, College grass-plats, and
milk-punch--and began to wish to go up himself to College to a place
where there were such manly pleasures and enjoyments. Farmer Gurnett, who
lives close by Fairoaks, riding by at this minute and touching his hat to
Pen, the latter stopped him, and sent a message to his mother to say that
he had met with an old schoolfellow, and should dine in Chatteris.
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