However Charlie intended it, it was neither more nor less than a talking at him, and that he could not stand.
Charlie took no notice of his silence, but continued his inspection of the dismal apartment, lighting up with pleasure at the sight of the old Randlebury relics.
"My old rod!" exclaimed he, taking down the very rod with the lance-wood top which had figured so conspicuously in a certain adventure three years ago; "how jolly to see it again! I'm afraid you don't get much use for it here.

And our fencing-sticks, too; see, Tom, here's the very place where you got under my guard and snipped a bit out of the basket.
Ha, ha! what a crack that was! And here's the picture of old Randlebury, with you at your window, and me lying on the grass (and looking uncommonly like a recently felled tree).

Look here, Tom, this window here is where Jim and I hang out now.

It used to be Callaghan's.
By the way, do you ever see Call?
He's in London, articled to a solicitor.

A pretty lawyer he'll make! Have you seen him yet, Tom ?" Tom, during this rattle, had been looking listlessly out of the window.
He now turned round with a start and said-- "Eh?
what did you say ?" The look which accompanied the words was so haggard and miserable, that Charlie's pity was instantly touched.