her to apportion the
crews. The worst of it was that one felt obliged to take the least
desirable place oneself. Considered as a don, Minerva had many points,
but when bound for a river picnic one did not exactly hanker after her
society. Still, there it was. Every position has its drawbacks. The
row up the river on that exquisite morning was a joy independent of
society, and when the Orchard itself was reached it was undeniably
agreeable to sit at the head of the table, and play the gracious hostess
to one's guests.

Orchard appetites are proverbial, but this particular party claimed to
have broken all previous records. Soon there was hardly a fragment of
food left on a plate. The pile of banana-skins was positively startling
to behold; tea and coffee pots were drained, and drained again; requests
for milk and more milk threatened the supply of later guests, and the
birds in the trees overhead chattered not a whit more gaily than the
company around the board.

"Shop" was sternly forbidden as a subject of conversation, and the
remotest reference thereto was instantly booed into silence, for behind
all the lightsomeness of demeanour a weight of anxiety lay on each
heart. The critical time was approaching when the result of the year's
work would be put to the test. The two classics, as sons of a poor
clergyman, were acutely conscious of all that was involved by a first or
second class. Ralph Percival was realising painfully the difficulty of
making up for years of slacking, or even of keeping up a spurt beyond a
few days at a time; the little Fresher trembled at the thought of her
first Mays; even Margaret France herself showed signs of nerves before
the ordeal of the Tripos, and on one tragic occasion had even been
discovered weeping hysterically upon her bed.

"C-c-couldn't remember a context," was her hiccoughing explanation of
the breakdown, and henceforth Darsie had taken her in hand, fagged for
her, petted her, scolded her, put her to bed, and ruthlessly carried off
notebooks to her own study, to frustrate disastrous attempts at midnight
toil.

As for Dan, he was a giant among pigmies. Examinations had no terrors
for him; his place was assured. When strangers visited Cambridge, their
sons and brothers pointed out his big, lumbering form in the streets,
and bade them remember Vernon--Vernon would arrive! Darsie was
conscious that his presence lent distinction to her party, for Dan but
seldom appear