t of the document. One look was enough for
him, and the next moment he was off at full speed for St.
Ambrose, and, rushing headlong into Hardy's rooms, seized him by
the hand and shook it vehemently.

"It's all right, old fellow," he cried, as soon as he could catch
his breath; "it's all right. Four firsts; you're one of them;
well done!"

"And Grey, where's he; is he all right?"

"Bless me, I forgot to look," said Tom; "I only read the firsts,
and then came off as hard as I could."

"Then he is not a first."

"No; I'm sure of that."

"I must go and see him; he deserved it far more than I."

"No, by Jove, old boy," said Tom, seizing him again by the hand,
"that he didn't; nor any man that ever went into the schools."

"Thank you, Brown," said Hardy, returning his warm grip. "You do
one good. Now to see poor Grey, and to write to my dear old
father before hall. Fancy him opening the letter at breakfast the
day after to-morrow! I hope it won't hurt him."

"Never, fear. I don't believe in people dying of joy, and
anything short of sudden death he won't mind at the price."

Hardy hurried off, and Tom went to his own rooms, and smoked a
cigar to allay his excitement, and thought about his friend, and
all they had felt together, and laughed and mourned over in the
short months of their friendship. A pleasant, dreamy half-hour he
spent thus, till the hall bell roused him, and he made his
toilette and went to his dinner.

It was with very mixed feelings that Hardy walked by the
servitors' table and took his seat with the bachelors, an equal
at last amongst equals. No man who is worth his salt can leave a
place where he has gone through hard and searching discipline,
and been tried in the very depths of his heart, without regret,
however much he may have winced under the discipline. It is no
light thing to fold up and lay by forever a portion of one's life
even when it can be laid by with honor and in thankfulness.

But it was with no mixed feelings, but with a sense of entire
triumph and joy, that Tom watched his friend taking his new
place, and the dons, one after another, coming up and
congratulating him, and treating him as the man who had done
honor to them and his college.

CHAPTER XXV

COMMEMORATION

The end of the academic year was now at hand, and Oxford was
beginning to put on her gayest clothing. The college gardeners
were in a state of unusual activity, and the lawns and
flower-beds which f