the separate landings of the old stair. Each
set consisted simply of a sitting-room and a bedroom, while the two
corresponding rooms upon the ground-floor were used, the one as a
coal-cellar, and the other as the living-room of the servant, or scout,
Thomas Styles, whose duty it was to wait upon the three men above him.
To right and to left was a line of lecture-rooms and of offices, so that
the dwellers in the old turret enjoyed a certain seclusion, which made
the chambers popular among the more studious undergraduates. Such were
the three who occupied them now--Abercrombie Smith above, Edward
Bellingham beneath him, and William Monkhouse Lee upon the lowest story.

It was ten o'clock on a bright spring night, and Abercrombie Smith lay
back in his armchair, his feet upon the fender, and his briar-root pipe
between his lips. In a similar chair, and equally at his ease, there
lounged on the other side of the fireplace his old school friend Jephro
Hastie. Both men were in flannels, for they had spent their evening upon
the river, but apart from their dress no one could look at their
hard-cut, alert faces without seeing that they were open-air men--men
whose minds and tastes turned naturally to all that was manly and
robust. Hastie, indeed, was stroke of his college boat, and Smith was an
even better oar, but a coming examination had already cast its shadow
over him and held him to his work, save for the few hours a week which
health demanded. A litter of medical books upon the table, with
scattered bones, models, and anatomical plates, pointed to the extent as
well as the nature of his studies, while a couple of single-sticks and a
set of boxing-gloves above the mantelpiece hinted at the means by which,
with Hastie's help, he might take his exercise in its most compressed
and least distant form. They knew each other very well--so well that
they could sit now in that soothing silence which is the very highest
development of companionship.

"Have some whisky," said Abercrombie Smith at last between two
cloudbursts. "Scotch in the jug and Irish in the bottle."

"No, thanks. I'm in for the sculls. I don't liquor when I'm training.
How about you?"

"I'm reading hard. I think it best to leave it alone."

Hastie nodded, and they relapsed into a contented silence.

"By the way, Smith," asked Hastie, presently, "have you made the
acquaintance of either of the fellows on your stair yet?"

"Just a nod when we pass. Nothing m