adies, with a brief note attached to explain why there were so many of
them.

Soon after the Eights were over, I heard that The Bradder had invited
my people to come up at the end of the term, and as I had never stayed
up for "Commem," I wrote back cheerfully, and said we would enjoy
ourselves. This letter, however, was answered by my father at once,
and my plans were again thrown into confusion. "I want you to leave
for Germany when term is over. To get even a smattering of the
language you must be there nearly three months, and, unless you go
immediately, you will miss all the shooting. I want you to know three
modern languages well enough to get into the Foreign Office without any
difficulty." This was the beginning of the longest letter I had ever
had from him, and in many ways the nicest, but I cannot say that I
wanted to spend my summer with a German family, and after consulting
Fred, I went to The Bradder to see if he would not help me to stay in
England.

"I can't read history and learn German at the same time," I said to
him, "and all my work will be wasted unless I do some this vac."

"Your father has evidently made up his mind," he said, but I think that
he must have been sorry for me.

"You write and tell him that I shall forget all I have been doing. He
will listen to you."

"German is very valuable to you."

"So is history. How can I be expected to work next year when I am
packed off every summer to live with a lot of people who don't want me?
I get no fun."

"You will like it when you get there, and for this summer you can
manage to do enough history to keep up what you know. I will help you
as much as I can."

"Why can't I be allowed for once to like a thing in the place where I
want to like it?" I asked, and I nearly told him that environment was
everything, but he did not like those profound statements any better
than I did. I only saw The Bradder really nasty to one man, and he had
been fool enough to say that the reason why he cut his lectures was
because the whole atmosphere of Oxford was against work, which really
was a sickening sort of excuse.

My attempts to get help from The Bradder failed, and as soon as I had
worked myself up into a rage he began to laugh.

So after one night at home I started to Germany and my people went to
Oxford for "Commem" on the same day, which was a most topsy-turvy state
of things. Nina promised to write to me, but I did not expect anything
fr