s the Scylla of Mr. Brainerd and on the other was the
Charybdis of Mr. Furbush. Lucky was he who could sail safely past the
two; and he was a wise young instructor who determined to follow in the
Dawsonian wake.

The final examination paper was then discussed; and Tom, who had come
fully prepared and was extremely wide-awake, had contributed the "spot"
passage in Wordsworth in its entirety--the couplet,

"A countenance in which did meet
Sweet records, promises as sweet,"

was included--and he had, furthermore, lent a most constructive hand in
the framing of the Carlyle-transcendental question--a performance which
he retailed to Mrs. Norris at the earliest moment, and which made the
Assistant Professorship and Nancy seem definitely within his grasp.

XII

Mrs. Norris was pleased with Tom's account of his success in the writing
of the examination paper. Certain unsatisfactory rumours had come to her
ears recently about his work. Henry Whitman, for example, had stated
that Tom was loafing and that unless he picked up and showed improvement
he might not receive a reappointment when his present term had expired.
It is curious how everyone knows everyone else's business at Woodbridge.
Each man has his grade stamped clearly upon him, for all, with the
possible exception of the man himself, to see. A young man can raise
this grade; and Mrs. Norris--who loved Tom almost as though he were her
own--was hopeful for him.

"All he needs, Julian," she said to the Dean when she told him of Tom's
triumph, "is a guiding hand. I can't do it, because I'm too old, but I
know someone who can." She was "straightening out" the library at the
time, and as she said this she gave a chair a shove with her knee, which
sent it flying into the books on the wall.

"Mercy on us," cried the Dean, annoyed by this display of vigour, "who
is it?"

"Nancy."

"Oh, pshaw, you're always trying to marry her off. You're the worst
match-maker I know."

Mrs. Norris laughed quietly. "You wait and see," was all she said; but
she had settled in her mind upon a picnic.

Mary, when approached upon the subject, had not been at all
enthusiastic. "Why, it's much too early for a picnic," she had objected.

"It is not at all. Everything is three weeks early this year, and that
makes it about the middle of May. We'll have a lovely moon, too. It will
be grand." And she proceeded to invite the guests, Nancy and Tom, and
Furbush, for it was true