y agreeable."

"Oh, I remember. You were talking to him for a long time after
you ran away from me. I was very curious to know what you were
saying, you seemed so interested."

"Well, you seem to have made the most of your time last night,"
said Tom; "I should have thought, Katie, you would hardly have
approved of him either."

"But who is he?"

"Why, the most dangerous man in Oxford. What do they call him--a
Germanizer and a rationalist, isn't it, Hardy?"

"Yes, I believe so," said Hardy.

"Oh, think of that! There, Katie; you had much better have stayed
by me after all. A Germanizer, didn't you say? What a hard word.
It must be much worse than Tractarian, isn't it, now?"

"Mary dear, pray take care; everybody will hear you," said Miss
Winter.

"I wish I thought that everybody would listen to me," replied
Miss Mary. "But I really will be quiet, Katie, only I must know
which is the worst, my Tractarians your Germanizer?"

"Oh, the Germanizer, of course," said Tom.

"But why?" said Hardy, who could do no less than break a lance
for his companion. Moreover, he happened to have strong
convictions on these subjects.

"Why? Because one knows the worst of where the Tractarians are
going. They may go to Rome and there's an end of it. But the
Germanizers are going into the abysses, or no one knows where."

"There, Katie, you hear, I hope," interrupted Miss Mary, coming
to her companion's rescue before Hardy could bring his artillery
to bear, "but what a terrible place Oxford must be. I declare it
seems quite full of people whom it is unsafe to talk with."

"I wish it were, if they were all like Miss Winter's friend,"
said Hardy. And then the crowd thickened and they dropped behind
again. Tom was getting to think more of his companion and less of
himself every minute, when he was suddenly confronted in the walk
by Benjamin, the Jew money-lender, smoking a cigar, and dressed
in a gaudy figured satin waistcoat and waterfall of the same
material, and resplendent with jewelry. He had business to attend
to in Oxford at this time of the year. Nothing escaped the eyes
of Tom's companion.

"Who was that?" she said; "what a dreadful-looking man! Surely he
bowed as if he knew you?"

"I dare say. He is impudent enough for anything," said Tom.

"But who is he?"

"Oh, a rascally fellow who sells bad cigars and worse wine."

Tom's equanimity was much shaken by the apparition of the Jew.
The remembrance of the bill sc