about all the evening in his cap and gown, instead of
working on at his edition of the Fathers, which occupied every
minute of his leisure, and was making an old man of him before
his time.

From eight to eleven the fine old pointed windows of St. Ambrose
Hall blazed with light, and the choruses of songs, and the cheers
which followed the short intervals of silence which the speeches
made, rang out over the quadrangles, and made the poor Dean amble
about in a state of nervous bewilderment. Inside there was hearty
feasting, such as had not been seen there, for aught I know,
since the day when the king came back to "enjoy his own again."
The one old cup, relic of the Middle Ages, which had survived the
civil wars,--St. Ambrose's had been a right loyal college, and
the plate had gone without a murmur into Charles the First's
war-chest,--went round and round; and rival crews pledged one
another out of it, and the massive tankards of a later day, in
all good faith and good fellowship. Mailed knights, grave
bishops, royal persons of either sex, and "other our
benefactors," looked down on the scene from their heavy gilded
frames, and, let us hope, not unkindly. All passed off well and
quietly; the out-college men were gone, the lights were out, and
the butler had locked the hall door by a quarter past eleven, and
the Dean returned in peace to his own rooms.

Had Tom been told a week before that he would not have enjoyed
that night, that it would not have been amongst the happiest and
proudest of his life, he would have set his informer down as a
madman. As it was, he never once rose to the spirit of the feast,
and wished it all over a dozen times. He deserved not to enjoy
it; but not so Hardy, who was nevertheless almost as much out of
tune as Tom; though the University coxswain had singled him out,
named him in his speech, sat by him and talked to him for a
quarter of an hour, and asked him to go to the Henley and Thames
regattas in the Oxford crew.

The next evening, as usual, Tom found himself at "The Choughs"
with half a dozen others. Patty was in the bar by herself,
looking prettier than ever. One by one the rest of the men
dropped off, the last saying, "Are you coming, Brown?" and being
answered in the negative.

He sat still, watching Patty as she flitted about, washing up the
ale glasses and putting them on their shelves, and getting out
her work basket; and then she came and sat down in her aunt's
chair opposi