I say, Hardy, I wish you'd let me come in and
sit with you a bit."

"I never ask a man of our college into my rooms," answered the
other, "but come in by all means if you like;" and so they
entered.

The room was the worst, both in situation and furniture, which
Tom had yet seen. It was on the ground floor, with only one
window, which looked out into a back yard, where were the offices
of the college. All day, and up to nine o'clock at night, the
yard and offices were filled with scouts; boys cleaning boots and
knives; bed-makers emptying slops and tattling scandal; scullions
peeling potatoes and listening; and the butchers' and
green-grocers' men who supply the college, and loitering about to
gossip and get a taste of the college ale before going about
their business. The room was large, but low and close, and the
floor uneven. The furniture did not add to the cheerfulness of
the apartment. It consisted of one large table in the middle,
covered with an old chequered table-cloth, and an Oxford table
near the window, on which lay half-a-dozen books with writing
materials. A couple of plain Windsor chairs occupied the two
sides of the fireplace, and half-a-dozen common wooden chairs
stood against the opposite wall, three on each side of a
pretty-well-filled book-case; while an old rickety sofa, covered
with soiled chintz, leaned against the wall which fronted the
window, as if to rest its lame leg. The carpet and rug were
dingy, and decidedly the worse for wear; and the college had
evidently neglected to paper the room or whitewash the ceiling
for several generations. On the mantle-piece reposed a few long
clay pipes, and a brown earthenware receptacle for tobacco,
together with a japanned tin case, shaped like a figure of eight,
the use of which puzzled Tom exceedingly. One modestly framed
drawing of a 10-gun brig hung above, and at the side of the
fireplace a sword and belt. All this Tom had time to remark by
the light of the fire, which was burning brightly, while his host
produced a couple of brass candlesticks from his cupboard and
lighted up, and drew the curtain before his window. Then Tom
instinctively left off taking his notes, for fear of hurting the
other's feelings (just as he would have gone on doing, and making
remarks on everything, had the rooms been models of taste and
comfort), and throwing his cap and gown on the sofa, sat down on
one of the Windsor chairs.

"What a jolly chair," said he; "where