it! The
shrimps, the sausages, were gone, the tongue was silent for ever, but
the ham and the marmalade remained.

The three friends were the oldest boys in the house, and almost in the
school. Two of them, Strachan and Kavanagh, were to leave at the end of
the half, and Forsyth was to do so after the next.

"Where's Kavanagh?" said the latter, coming into the room and sitting
down by the fire.

"At his tutor's," said Strachan; "he is bound to be in directly. Let
the tea brew a bit longer."

"It's uncommonly cold this evening; going to snow, I think. I hate snow
in February; there is no chance of real frost for skating, and it spoils
the football. Oh, here's Kavanagh."

The youth named strolled deliberately in at the moment, sat down at the
table, and began to shave off a slice of ham.

"Has the cold wind made you hungry, or has the effort to understand that
chorus in Euripides exhausted you?"

"I never try to understand what I firmly believe to have no meaning
whatever," drawled Kavanagh; "and I am never hungry. I consider it bad
form to be hungry; it shows that a fellow does not eat often enough.
Now the distinguishing mark of a gentleman is that he has too many meals
a day ever to feel hungry."

"I see; then you are only carving the ham for us."

"That does not exactly follow. Never jump to conclusions. A fire may
not actually require coals, yet you may put some on to keep it going; so
it is with a gentleman's stomach. You may take ham to appease hunger,
or you may take it to prevent the obtrusion of that vulgar sensation.
Not that I object to helping you fellows. The carving of ham is an art,
a fourpenny piece representing the maximum of thickness which the lean
should obtain. With a carving-knife and fork this ideal is not too easy
of attainment, but with these small blunt tools it requires a first-rate
workman to approach it. Now this slice, which I sacrifice on the altar
of friendship, is, I regret to say, fully as thick as a shilling."

At this moment a little boy, Kavanagh's fag, came into the room bearing
a muffin on a toasting-fork.

"Devereux!" said Kavanagh, severely, "do you know what Louis the
Fourteenth of France said when his carriage drew up, as he stepped
outside his front door?"

"No."

"He said, `I almost had to wait!' Now I, too, say to you that my tea is
poured out, my ham cut, and I almost had to wait. Not quite, happily
not quite, or the consequences to you would h