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148
The Diary of a Nobody
·
George Grossmith Weedon Grossmith
10
APRIL
15,
Sunday.—
At
three
o’clock
Cummings
and
Gowing
called
for
a
good
long
walk
over
Hampstead
and
Finchley,
and
brought
with
them
a
friend
named
Stillbrook.
We
walked
and
chatted
together,
except
Stillbrook,
who
was
always
a
few
yards
behind
us
staring
at
the
ground
and
cutting
at
the
grass
with
his
stick.
As
it
was
getting
on
for
five,
we
four
held
a
consultation,
and
Gowing
suggested
that
we
should
make
for
“The
Cow
and
Hedge”
and
get
some
tea.
Stillbrook
said:
“A
brandy-and-soda
was
good
enough
for
him.”
I
reminded
them
that
all
public-houses
were
closed
till
six
o’clock.
Stillbrook
said,
“That’s
all
right—
bona-fide
travellers.”
We
arrived;
and
as
I
was
trying
to
pass,
the
man
in
charge
of
the
gate
said:
“Where
from?”
I
replied:
“Holloway.”
He
immediately
put
up
his
arm,
and
declined
to
let
me
pass.
I
turned
back
for
a
moment,
when
I
saw
Stillbrook,
closely
followed
by
Cummings
and
Gowing,
make
for
the
entrance.
I
watched
them,
and
thought
I
would
have
a
good
laugh
at
their
expense,
I
heard
the
porter
say:
“Where
from?”
When,
to
my
surprise,
in
fact
disgust,
Stillbrook
replied:
“Blackheath,”
and
the
three
were
immediately
admitted.
Gowing
called
to
me
across
the
gate,
and
said:
“We
shan’t
be
a
minute.”
I
waited
for
them
the
best
part
of
an
hour.
When
they
appeared
they
were
all
in
most
excellent
spirits,
and
the
only
one
who
made
an
effort
to
apologise
was
Mr.
Stillbrook,
who
said
to
me:
“It
was
very
rough
on
you
to
be
kept
waiting,
but
we
had
another
spin
for
S.
and
B.’s.”
I
walked
home
in
silence;
I
couldn’t
speak
to
them.
I
felt
very
dull
all
the
evening,
but
deemed
it
advisable
not
to
say
anything
to
Carrie
about
the
matter.
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