orse than when she started.
In the middle of which dialogue his new acquaintance, touching
his arm, said, "You can leave my jersey with your own things; I
shall get it to-morrow," and then disappeared.

Tom, when he had come to terms with his adversary, ran upstairs,
expecting to find the other, and meaning to tell his name, and
find out who it was that had played the good Samaritan by him. He
was much annoyed when he found the coast clear, and dressed in a
grumbling humour. "I wonder why he should have gone off so quick.
He might just as well have stayed and walked up with me," thought
he. "Let me see, though; didn't he say I was to leave his Jersey
in our room, with my own things? Why, perhaps he is a St. Ambrose
man himself. But then he would have told me so, surely. I don't
remember to have seen his face in chapel or hall; but then there
is such a lot of new faces, and he may not sit near me. However I
mean to find him out before long, whoever he may be." With which
resolve Tom crossed in the punt into Christ's Church meadow, and
strolled college-wards, feeling that he had had a good hard
afternoon's exercise, and was much the better for it. He might
have satisfied his curiosity at once by simply asking the manager
who it was that had arrived with him; and this occurred to him
before he got home, whereat he felt satisfied, but would not go
back then, as it was so near hall time. He would be sure to
remember it the first thing tomorrow.

As it happened, however, he had not so long to wait for the
information which he needed; for scarcely had he sat down in hall
and ordered his dinner, when he caught sight of his boating
acquaintance, who walked in habited in a gown which Tom took for
a scholar's. He took his seat at a little table in the middle of
the hall, near the bachelors' table, but quite away from the rest
of the undergraduates, at which sat four or five other men in
similar gowns. He either did not or would not notice the looks of
recognition which Tom kept firing at him until he had taken his
seat.

"Who is that man that has just come in, do you know?" said Tom to
his next neighbour, a second term man.

"Which?" said the other, looking up.

"That one over at the little table in the middle of the hall,
with the dark whiskers. There, he has just turned rather from us,
and put his arm on the table."

"Oh, his name is Hardy."

"Do you know him?"

"No; I don't think anybody does. They say he is a clev