ssed regrets of the other three. He it was who spoke of the grime
and labor of the paternal office, of Life with a capital letter as large
as any lady novelist's, and of how one would remember these evenings and
the leaning-out over a cushioned window-sill and the poring upon this
majestic street.

"We don't realize our good luck until it's too late really," said
Wedderburn seriously. "We've wasted our time, and now we've got to go."

"Well, dash it all, Wedders," said Lonsdale, "don't talk as if we were
going to bolt for a train before hall. We aren't going down for three
weeks yet, and jolly old Michael and jolly old Tommy aren't going down
for another year."

"Lucky devils!" sighed Wedderburn. "By gad, if I only had my time at the
Varsity all over again."

But just when Wedderburn had by his solemnity almost managed really to
impress the company with a sense of fleeting time, and when even upon
Lonsdale was descending the melancholy of the deep-dyed afternoon,
across the road they could see sauntering three men whom they all knew
well.

"Tally-ho-ho-ho-whooop!" shouted Lonsdale.

The three men saluted thus came upstairs to the big room of Two Hundred
and Two, and a bout of amiable ragging and rotting passed away the hour
before dinner and restored to the big room itself the wonted air of
imperishable good-fellowship.

"Lucky you lads turned up," said Lonsdale. "Old Wedders has been moping
in his window-seat like a half-plucked pigeon. We're dining in hall
to-night, are you?"

The newcomers were dining in hall, and so in a wide line of brilliant
ties and ribbons the seven of them strolled down to college.

There were very few people in hall that night, and Venner's was
pleasantly empty. Venner himself was full of anecdotes, and as they sat
on the table in the middle of the room, drinking their coffee, it seemed
impossible enough to imagine that they would not be forever here
drinking their coffee on a fine June evening.

"Going down soon, Venner," said Wedderburn, who was determined to make
somebody sad.

"What a pity you're not taking a fourth year!" said Venner. "You ought
to have read an Honor School. I always advise the men to read for
honors. The dons like it, you know."

"Got to go and earn my living, Venner," said Wedderburn.

"That's right," said Venner cheerfully. "Then you'll be married all the
sooner, or perhaps you're not a marrying man."

"Haven't found the right girl yet, Venner," said