ut-college
friends, confronted Mr Perkins in about as sweet a temper as that worthy
individual himself, with this difference, that one was sulky and the
other furious.
"Who lives in the ground-floor on the left in No. 8?"
"What, in 'Coventry?' Why, nobody, sir."
"Nobody! you stupid old sinner, you're asleep."
"No, sir, I ain't," and Solomon flashed his lantern in Mr Perkins's face
as if to ascertain whether _his_ eyes were open. Mr Perkins started
back, and Solomon turned half round as if to disappear again.
"Who lives there, Solomon, I ask you? Do you mean to tell me you don't
know? You are not fit--"
"I knows every gentleman's rooms well enough: nobody hasn't lived in
them as you means not these four terms. Mr Pears kept his fox in 'em one
time, till the vice-principal got wind of him. There may be some varmint
in 'em for all I knows--they a'n't fit for much else."
"There's some confounded puppy of a Freshman in them now--at least
there was--and he lives there too."
"I know there _be'n't_," said the persevering Solomon. And, without
deigning a word more, he set off with his lantern towards the place in
dispute, followed by Mr Perkins, who contented himself with an angry
"Now you'll see."
"Ay, now we shall see," replied Solomon, as, somewhat to Mr Perkins's
astonishment, they found the oak sported. Having made a selection from a
huge bunch of keys, the porter succeeded, after some fumbling, in
getting the door open. The room bore no traces of recent occupation.
Three or four broken chairs and a rickety table were the only furniture:
as far as the light of Solomon's lantern could penetrate, it looked the
very picture of desolation. Solomon chuckled.
"There _is_ a man living here. I'll swear there is. He was undressing
when I came. Look in the bedroom."
They opened the door, and saw a bare feather-bed and bolster, the usual
_materiel_ in an unoccupied college chamber. "Seeing's believing," said
the porter.
But, with Mr Perkins, seeing was not believing. He saw Solomon, and he
saw the empty room, but he did not believe either. But he had evidently
the worst side of the argument as it stood, so he wished the porter a
sulky good-night, and retreated.
The fact was, that the noisy gentleman in the rooms above, as soon as he
caught the tones of Mr Perkins's voice at Carey's door, had entered into
the joke with exceeding gusto, well aware that the visit was really
intended as a compliment to his ow
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