ou for ages." "My name," said I, "is Mr. Banks"--just
like that, as cool as you please. I could see she felt it. "I've called
you Bob," says she, very red in the face, "and you've called me Maimie
ever since we went to Sunday-school together, and I'm not going to begin
calling you Mr. Banks now, my boy-o! so don't you think it!"'

It was a relief to Hyacinth when he was tapped on the arm by a boy with
a very pimply face, who thrust a paper into his hand, and distracted
his attention from the final discomfiture of Maimie, which Mr. Banks was
recounting in a clear, high-pitched voice, as if he wished everyone in
the neighbourhood to hear it.

'I hope you'll come,' said the boy.

'Where?'

'It's all in the paper. The students' prayer-meeting, held every
Wednesday morning at nine o'clock sharp. Special meeting to-morrow.'

Hyacinth was bewildered. There was something quite unfamiliar in this
prompt and business-like advertisement of prayer. The student with the
papers began to be doubtful of him.

'You're not High Church, are you?' he asked. 'We're not. We don't have
printed offices, with verses and responds, and that sort of thing. We
have extempore prayer by members of the union.'

'No; I'm not High Church,' said Hyacinth--'at least, I think not. I
don't really know much about these things. I'll be very glad to go to
your meeting.'

'That's right,' said the other. 'All are welcome. There will be special
prayer to-morrow for the success of the British arms. I suppose you
heard that old Kruger has sent an ultimatum. There will be war at once.'

There was a sudden movement among the students; gowns were pulled
straight and caps adjusted.

'Here he comes,' said someone.

Dr. Henry, the divinity professor, crossed the square rapidly. He was a
middle-aged man, stout, almost ponderous, in figure; but he held himself
rigidly upright, and walked fast across the square. The extreme neatness
of his clothes contrasted with the prevailing shabbiness of the students
and the assistant lecturers who followed him. Yet he did not seem to be
a man who gave to externals more than their due share of consideration.
His broad forehead gave promise of great intellectual power, a promise
half belied by the narrow gray eyes beneath it. These were eyes which
might see keenly, and would certainly see things just as they are,
though they were not likely to catch any glimpse of that greater
world where objects cannot be focussed sharply.