ing put it into the heads of some
other stragglers of the party to break out, at the top of their voices,
into a stanza of that immortal ditty, "We won't go home till morning."
Instantly we could hear a window, which we well knew to be the dean's,
open above us, and as the unmelodious chorus went on, his wrath found
vent in the usual strain--"Who is making that disturbance?"

No one volunteering an explanation, he went on.

"Who are those in the quadrangle?"

Leicester and I walked somewhat faster. I am not sure that our dignity
did not condescend to run, as we heard steps coming down from No. 5, at
a pace that evidently portended a chase, and remembered for the first
time the remarkable costume which, to common observers, would indicate
that there was a visitor of an unusual character enjoying the moonlight
in the quadrangle. When we reached the "thoroughfare," the passage from
the inner to the outer quadrangle, we fairly bolted; and as the steps
came pretty fast after us, and Leicester's rooms were the nearest, we
both made good our retreat thither, and sported oak.

The porter's lodge was in the next number; and hearing a knocking in
that quarter, Leicester gently opened the window, and we could catch the
following dialogue:--

"Solomon! open this door directly--it is I, the dean."

"Good dear sir!" said Solomon, apparently asleep, and fumbling for the
keys of the college gates--"let you out? O yes, sir--directly."

"Listen to me, Solomon: I am not going out. Did you let any one out just
now--just before I called you?"

"No, sir; nobody whatsomdever."

"Solomon! I ask you, did you not, just now, let a _woman_ out?"

"Lawk! no, sir--Lord forbid!" said Solomon, now thoroughly wakened.

"Now, Solomon, bring your light, and come with me; this must be inquired
into. I saw a woman run this way, and if she is not gone through the
gate, she is gone into this next number. Whose rooms are in No. 13?"

"There's Mr Dyson's, sir, on the ground-floor."

Mr Dyson was the very fellow who had called at Challoner's rooms. "Hah!
well, I'll call Mr Dyson up. Whose besides?"

"There's Mr Leicester, sir, above his'n."

"Very well, Solomon; call up Mr Dyson, and say I wish to speak with him
particularly."

And so saying, the dean proceeded up-stairs.

The moment Leicester heard his name mentioned, he began to anticipate a
domiciliary visit. The thing was so ridiculous that we hardly knew what
to do.

"Shall I get into