een well thrashed, then? You don't look much damaged?"

"We are innocent of fight since your sudden departure--flight,
shall I call it?--my Captain."

"Where have you been?"

"Where! why in the paragon of all pot houses; snug little bar
with red curtains; stout old benevolent female in spectacles;
barmaid an houri; and for malt the most touching tap in Oxford,
wasn't it, Brown?"

"Yes, the beer was undeniable," said Tom.

"Well, and you dawdled there till now?" said Jervis.

"Even so. What with mobs that wouldn't fight fair, the captains
who would run away, and the proctors marshals who would
interfere, we were 'perfectly disgusted with the whole
proceedings,' as the Scotchman said when he was sentenced to be
hanged."

"Well! Heaven, they say, protects children, sailors, and drunken
men; and whatever answer to Heaven in the academical system
protects freshmen," remarked Jervis.

"Not us, at any rate," said Tom, "for we are to go to the proctor
to-morrow morning."

"What, did he catch you in your famous public?"

"No; the marshal came round to the porter's lodge, asked if we
were in, and left word that, if we were not, we were to go to him
in the morning. The porter told us just now as we came in."

"Pshaw," said the Captain, with disgust; "now you'll be gated
probably, and the whole crew will be thrown out of gear. Why
couldn't you have come home when I did?"

"We do not propose to attend the levee of that excellent person
in office to-morrow morning," said Drysdale. "He will forget all
about it. Old Copas won't say a word--catch him. He gets too much
out of me for that."

"Well, you'll see; I'll back the proctor's memory."

"But, Captain, what are you going to stand?"

"Stand! nothing, unless you like a cup of cold tea. You'll get no
wine or spirits here at this time of night, and the buttery is
shut. Besides you've had quite as much beer as good for you at
your paragon public."

"Come, now, Captain, just two glasses of sherry, and I'll promise
to go to bed."

"Not a thimbleful."

"You old tyrant!" said Drysdale, hopping off his perch on the
elbow of the sofa. "Come along, Brown, let's go and draw for some
supper, and a hand at Van John. There's sure to be something
going up my staircase; or, at any rate, there's a cool bottle of
claret in my rooms."

"Stop and have a talk, Brown," said the Captain, and prevailed
against Drysdale, who, after another attempt to draw Tom off,
departed on his