result. He had known his work fairly well,
however, at one time, and with luck he might pull through. He made an
energetic attempt to compress a month's reading into a week, and when
the day for the written examination came round he had recovered some of
his lost ground. The papers suited him fairly well, and he felt as he
left the hall that he had had better fortune than he deserved. The
_viva voce_ ordeal was the one, however, which he knew would be most
dangerous to him, and he dreaded it accordingly.

It was a raw spring morning when his turn came to go up. His father and
Kate drove round with him to the University gates.

"Keep up your pluck, Tom," the old gentleman said. "Be cool, and have
all your wits about you. Don't lose your head, whatever you do."

"I seem to have forgotten the little I ever knew," Tom said dolefully,
as he trudged up the steps. As he looked back he saw Kate wave her hand
to him cheerily, and it gave him fresh heart.

"We shall hope to see you at lunch time," his father shouted after him.
"Mind you bring us good news." As he spoke the carriage rattled away
down the Bridges, and Tom joined the knot of expectant students who were
waiting at the door of the great hall.

A melancholy group they were, sallow-faced, long-visaged and dolorous,
partly from the effects of a long course of study and partly from their
present trepidation. It was painful to observe their attempts to appear
confident and unconcerned as they glanced round the heavens, as if to
observe the state of the weather, or examined with well-feigned
archaeological fervour the inscriptions upon the old University walls.
Most painful of all was it, when some one, plucking up courage, would
venture upon a tiny joke, at which the whole company would gibber in an
ostentatious way, as though to show that even in this dire pass the
appreciation of humour still remained with them. At times, when any of
their number alluded to the examination or detailed the questions which
had been propounded to Brown or Baker the day before, the mask of
unconcern would be dropped, and the whole assembly would glare eagerly
and silently at the speaker. Generally on such occasions matters are
made infinitely worse by some Job's comforter, who creeps about
suggesting abstruse questions, and hinting that they represent some
examiner's particular hobby. Such a one came to Dimsdale's elbow, and
quenched the last ray of hope which lingered in th