at I was up at Oxford, and talked
constantly of how much we should see of one another. As it
happened, I was almost the first man he met when he got off the
coach at the 'Angel,' at the beginning of his first term. He
almost embraced me, and nothing would serve but I must dine with
him at the inn, and we spent the evening together, and parted
dear friends. Two days afterwards we met in the street; he was
with two other youngsters, and gave me a polished and distant
bow; in another week he passed me as if we had never met.

"I don't blame him, poor boy. My only wonder is, that any of them
ever get through this place without being thoroughly spoilt. From
Vice-Chancellor down to scout's boy, the whole of Oxford seems to
be in league to turn their boys heads, even if they come up with
them set on straight, which toadying servants at home take care
shall never happen if they can hinder it. The only men who would
do them good up here, both dons and undergraduates, keep out of
their way, very naturally. Gentlemen-commoners have a little
better chance, though not much, and seem to me to be worse than
the tufts, and to furnish most of their toadies.

"Well, you are tired of my railing? I daresay I am rabid about it
all. Only it does go to my heart to think what this place might
be, and what it is. I see I needn't give you any more of my
experience.

"You'll understand now some of the things that have puzzled you
about me. Oh! I know they did; you needn't look apologetic. I
don't wonder, or blame you. I am a very queer bird for the perch
I have lit on; I know that as well as anybody. The only wonder is
that you ever took the trouble to try to lime me. Now have
another glass of toddy. Why! it is near twelve. I must have one
pipe and turn in. No Aristophanes to-night."

CHAPTER IX

"A BROWN BAIT."

Tom's little exaltation in his own eyes consequent on the
cupboard-smashing escapade of his friend was not to last long.
Not a week had elapsed before he himself arrived suddenly in
Hardy's room in as furious a state of mind as the other had so
lately been in, allowing for the difference of the men. Hardy
looked up from his books and exclaimed:--

"What's the matter? Where have you been to-night? You look fierce
enough to sit for a portrait of Sanguinoso Volcanoni, the
bandit."

"Been!" said Tom, sitting down on the spare Windsor chair, which
he usually occupied, so hard as to make it crack again; "been!
I've been to a