CHAPTER TWENTY THREE.
HOW I BEGAN TO DISCOVER THAT I WAS NOT A VERY NICE BOY AFTER ALL.
If I had flattered myself I had ceased to care about my friend Smith, the events of the evening just described served to cure me of any delusion.

I had thrown myself recklessly into dissipation and riot, so as to forget him; but now, as I lay on my bed and thought over what had befallen me, my misery at losing him returned tenfold, aggravated by the consciousness that now I deserved his friendship even less than ever.
"He's a gentleman, he is!" The words of the little shoeblack rang in my ears all night long, echoed by another voice from within, "What are _you_ ?" After all, had I not been doing my very best the last few days to prove Jack's own description of me as a liar and a coward to be true?
The fellows at the office next morning were in a high state of glee over the adventures of the previous evening.
"Wasn't it just about a spree ?" said Wallop.

"I never saw such a fellow as young Batch for leading one into mischief.

I used to think _I_ was a pretty wild hand, but I'm a perfect sheep to him, ain't I, Dubbs ?" "You are so," replied Doubleday.

"Batch, my boy, if you go on at the rate you did last night, you'll overdo it.