go and get me a broil from the kitchen," said the
Honorable Piers, without deigning an answer to Drysdale.

"Very sorry, sir; kitchen's shut by now, sir," answered Henry.

"Then go to Hinton's, and order some cutlets."

"I say, Henry," shouted Drysdale to the retreating scout; "not
to my tick, mind! Put them down to Mr. St. Cloud."

Henry seemed to know very well that in that case he might save
himself the trouble of the journey, and consequently returned to
his waiting; and the Honorable Piers set to work upon his
breakfast, without showing any further ill temper certainly,
except by the stinging things which he threw every now and then
into the conversation, for the benefit of each of the others in
turn.

Tom thought he detected signs of coming hostilities between his
host and St. Cloud, for Drysdale seemed to prick up his ears and
get combative whenever the other spoke, and lost no chance in
roughing him in his replies. And, indeed, he was not far wrong;
the fact being, that during Drysdale's first term, the other had
lived on him-drinking his wine, smoking his cigars, driving his
dog-cart, and winning his money; all which Drysdale, who was the
easiest going and best tempered fellow in Oxford, had stood
without turning a hair. But St. Cloud added to these little
favors a half patronizing, half contemptuous manner, which he
used with great success towards some of the other
gentleman-commoners, who thought it a mark of high breeding, and
the correct thing, but which Drysdale, who didn't care three
straws about knowing St. Cloud, wasn't going to put up with.

However, nothing happened but a little sparring, and the
breakfast things were cleared away, and the tankards left on the
table, and the company betook themselves to cigars and easy
chairs. Jack came out of his corner to be gratified with some of
the remnants by his fond master, and then curled himself up on
the sofa along which Drysdale lounged.

"What are you going to do to-day, Drysdale?" said one of the
others. "I've ordered a leader to be sent on over the bridge, and
mean to drive my dog-cart over, and dine at Abingdon. Won't you
come?"

"Who's going besides?" asked Drysdale.

"Oh, only St. Cloud and Farley here. There's lots of room for a
fourth."

"No, thank'ee; teaming's slow work on the back seat. Besides,
I've half promised to go down in the boat."

"In the boat!" shouted the other. "Why, you don't mean to say
you're going to take to pull