the worse Christians and citizens are ye for your
involuntary failing of muscularity!

CHAPTER XIV

A CHANGE IN THE CREW, AND WHAT CAME OF IT

It was on a Saturday that the St. Ambrose boat made the first
bump, described in our last chapter. On the next Saturday, the
day-week after the first success, at nine o'clock in the evening,
our hero was at the door of Hardy's rooms. He just stopped for
one moment outside, with his hand on the lock, looking a little
puzzled, but withal pleased, and then opened the door and
entered. The little estrangement which there had been between
them for some weeks, had passed away since the races had begun.
Hardy had thrown himself into the spirit of them so thoroughly,
that he had not only regained all his hold on Tom, but had warmed
up the whole crew in his favour, and had mollified the martinet
Miller himself. It was he who had managed the starting-rope in
every race, and his voice from the towing path had come to be
looked upon as a safe guide for clapping on or rowing steady.
Even Miller, autocrat as he was, had come to listen for it, in
confirmation of his own judgment, before calling on the crew for
the final effort.

So Tom had recovered his old footing in the servitor's rooms; and
when he entered on the night in question did so with the bearing
of an intimate friend. Hardy's tea commons were on one end of the
table as usual, and he was sitting at the other poring over a
book. Tom marched straight up to him, and leant over his
shoulder.

"What, here you are at the perpetual grind," he said. "Come; shut
up, and give me some tea; I want to talk to you."

Hardy looked up with a grim smile.

"Are you up to a cup of tea?" he said; "look here, I was just
reminded of you fellows. Shall I construe for you?"

He pointed with his finger to the open page of the book he was
reading. It was the Knights of Aristophanes, and Tom, leaning
over his shoulder, read,--

[Greek text] chata chathixion malachoz ina meh tribehz tehn en
Salamint, &c.

After meditating a moment, he burst out; "You hardhearted old
ruffian! I come here for sympathy, and the first thing you do is
to poke fun at me out of your wretched classics. I've a good mind
to clear out and not to do my errand."

"What's a man to do?" said Hardy. "I hold that it's always better
to laugh at fortune. What's the use of repining? You have done
famously, and second is a capital place on the river."

"Second be hanged!"