return; and then the two set about foraging for
tea, in which operation the master was much at fault, having the
faintest possible idea of where to find anything, and being moreover
wondrously short-sighted; but Tom, by a sort of instinct, knew the
right cupboards in the kitchen and pantry, and soon managed to place
on the snuggery[42] table better materials for a meal than had
appeared there probably during the reign of his tutor, who was then
and there initiated, amongst other things, into the excellence of that
mysterious condiment, a dripping cake. The cake was newly baked, and
all rich and flaky; Tom had found it reposing in the cook's private
cupboard, awaiting her return; and, as a warning to her, they finished
it to the last crumb. The kettle sang away merrily on the hob[43] of
the snuggery, for, notwithstanding the time of year, they lighted a
fire, throwing both the windows wide open at the same time; the heaps
of books and papers were pushed away to the other end of the table,
and the great solitary engravings of King's College Chapel[44] over
the mantle-piece looked less stiff than usual, as they settled
themselves down in the twilight to the serious drinking of tea.

[42] #Snuggery#: a small, cosy room.

[43] #Hob#: that part of a grate on which things are placed to
be kept hot.

[44] #King's College Chapel#: a chapel of King's College,
Cambridge. It is celebrated for its architectural beauty.

HARRY EAST.

After some talk on the match, and other indifferent subjects, the
conversation came naturally back to Tom's approaching departure, over
which he began again to moan.

"Well, we shall miss you quite as much as you will miss us," said the
master. "You are the Nestor[45] of the School now, are you not?"

[45] #Nestor#: oldest member of the School.

"Yes, ever since East left," answered Tom.

"By the bye, have you heard from him?"

"Yes; I had a letter in February, just before he started for India to
join his regiment."

"He will make a capital officer."

"Ay, won't he?" said Tom, brightening; "no fellow could handle boys
better, and I suppose soldiers are very like boys. And he'll never
tell them to go where he won't go himself. No mistake about that,--a
braver fellow never walked."

"His year in the sixth will have taught him a good deal that will be
useful to him now."

"So it will," said Tom, staring into the fire. "Poor dear Harry,"
he went on, "how well I r