l give you ten minutes to write your letter; it can't
possibly take you more, not even if you put into it my love to my
aunt and cousins."

"I cannot do it while you are here."

"Nonsense! gammon! You shall do it while I'm here. I'll not allow you
to make yourself a miserable ass all for nothing. Come, write. If
it's not written in ten minutes, I'll write it;" and so saying, he
took up a play of Aristophanes wherewith to amuse himself, by way of
light reading, after the heavy work of the week.

Poor Wilkinson again drew his chair to the table, but his heart was
very heavy. Vae victis!

CHAPTER II.

BREAKFAST AND LUNCH.

Wilkinson took the pen in his hand and bent himself over the paper
as though he were going to write; but not an ink-mark fell upon the
paper. How should he write it? The task might have been comparatively
light to him but for that dreadful debt. Bertram in the meantime
tossed over the pages of his book, looking every now and then at his
watch; and then turning sharply round, he exclaimed, "Well!"

"I wish you'd leave me," said Wilkinson; "I'd rather be alone."

"May I be doomed to live and die a don if I do; which style of life,
next to that of an English bishop, I look on as the most contemptible
in the world. The Queen's royal beef-eaters come next; but that, I
think, I could endure, as their state of do-nothingness is not so
absolute a quantity. Come; how far have you got? Give me the paper,
and I'll write you a letter in no time."

"Thank you; I'd rather write my own letter."

"That's just what I want you to do, but you won't;" and then again
he turned for two minutes to the "Frogs." "Well--you see you don't
write. Come, we'll both have a try at it, and see who'll have done
first. I wonder whether my father is expecting a letter from me?"
And, so saying, he seized hold of pen and paper and began to write.

My dearest Father,

This weary affair is over at last. You will be sorry to
hear that the event is not quite as well as it might have
been as far as I am concerned. I had intended to be a
first, and, lo! I am only a second. If my ambition had
been confined to the second class, probably I might have
come out a first. I am very sorry for it, chiefly for your
sake; but in these days no man can count on the highest
honours as a certainty. As I shall be home on Tuesday, I
won't say any more. I can't give you any tidings about the
fellowships ye