unch was in full swing when he entered
the festive study. He had rarely felt so embarrassed, and the manifest
excitement of his two pupils at his arrival did not tend to restore him
to ease.

And now occurred a wonderful case of presence of mind on the part of two
small and tender boys. No sooner had Railsford entered, and somewhat
hesitatingly advanced to the table, preparatory to stating his business,
than Sir Digby Oakshott, Baronet, winked at Arthur Herapath, Esquire,
and Arthur Herapath, Esquire, kicked Sir Digby Oakshott, Baronet, under
the table; after which both rose abruptly to their feet and bolted from
the room, making the corridor echo with their laughter!

They explained afterwards that they wanted to bag front seats for the
speeches; and that, no doubt, was a highly satisfactory reason.

At twelve o'clock, when the Earl of Somebody, and Sir Brown Robinson,
and the other local celebrities and governors of the school entered the
hall, that usually dingy room was packed from end to end by a brilliant
and expectant crowd.

The radiant faces of the boys peeped out from among the phalanges of
their no less radiant people. The prize boys on the front benches kept
up a running fire of talk and cheering; the masters in their gowns
beamed right and left, as if all of them put together could not give a
fellow a hundred lines if he asked for it; and the college servants,
grouped at the doors, smiled as if no cloud had ever ruffled their
temper since last speech-day: while the doctor, as he rose, resplendent
in his academical robes, and called for silence, looked as if no more
solemn question had engaged his attention all the term than the
arrangement of his strings and the droop of the scarlet hood on his
back.

Then speech-day began. My readers hardly want me to describe so
familiar a scene. They will be able to picture to themselves, better
than I can picture it for them, how Smedley was cheered when he got up
to deliver the English Oration in honour of the old school; and how he
blushed and ran short of breath when he came to the quotation from
Milton at the end, which had something about a Violet in it!--how, when
Ainger rose to give the Greek Speech, his own fellows rose at him amid
cries of "Well run, sir!" "Well hit!" "Well fielded!" and cheered
every sentence of the Greek, though they had not an idea what it was
about--how Barnworth was similarly encouraged through his Latin Oration
with cries of