‘Don’t be an ass,’ said Freddy, who was steadying himself by a clothes

peg, ‘who is to fetch you anything; besides, if they did, do you

suppose they’d get it here in safety?’

‘Yes,’ put in Blandford, ‘the person in pink plush with white

extremities lost seven drinks off his tray on the way to the next box

just now.’

Here a lady, whose only known name was Girlie, and who had been

dumped down in the box by some member of our party who had completely

forgotten her, demanded a sherry and bitters.

‘Who’s that?’ remarked Freddy unsteadily, as he let go one hat peg and

caught another after two vain efforts. ‘Whashedoinere?’

‘Can’t imagine,’ replied Fatty; and then Freddy having incautiously

lost his grip on his sole means of support and fallen against the

bell, the conversation was terminated by the appearance of the waiter.

‘This lady,’ said Accrington to the waiter, ‘wants to stand us drinks

all round.’

Girlie then rose and commenced a protest which was more forcible than

polite; but Accrington waved her aside with a regal gesture.

‘I daresay you didn’t mean to say so m’dear,’ he added, ‘but there are

somanyqueerpeopleretnight.’

After the offended Girlie had left the box, Fatty was just proceeding

to order the terrible mixture dear to his heart, when Freddy addressed

the waiter as ‘Puddle darling,’ and enquired if he was going to

Hardtopp-on-Sands for the mixed bathing.

The waiter’s reply was to slam the door from the outside, and Fatty’s

ginger-beered Angostura vanished into the dim and distant future.

At this moment the last turn concluded, and the orchestra gave tongue

to the National Anthem, which was caught up vigorously in all parts of

the house.

It took us quite a quarter of an hour to collect our party, but when

this had been done we made hastily for Jacques’ to make sure of

getting something to eat and drink before closing time. Blandford,

who belongs to the New Lyric, invited the whole party to sup there,

but I dissuaded him; and as we afterwards found that the Club was

closed indefinitely, my wisdom was justified. Crossing the Circus we

lost Reggie; who subsequently scandalised the habitués of the Great

Trafalgar by reappearing about 11.30 next morning in evening dress with

an improbable tale of a cousin from Peckham Rye, who had taken him in

for the night.

At the entrance to the Restaurant, Freddy sighted an awful looking

object with an eye-glass, which subsequently caused him much

perturbation. An appeal to the presiding genius of the lobster bar to

have the offensive person removed proved unavailing, and so we made

for the supper room endeavouring to forget his glassy eye and pinched

waist. Since it was no longer as early as it had been, the room was

nearly full, each table being occupied by one or more young gentlemen

enjoying assorted confectionery. Before we had time to do anything

a fight between two ladies, late of Hamburg, but now of Aphrodite

Mansions, according to the waiter, engrossed our attention. The

subject of dispute was a weak-looking little man with pince-nez who

gazed helplessly at the combatants, evidently wondering if his fate

would be that of the baby in the case adjudicated by the late Solomon

of Jerusalem! The end came quite suddenly, for a herculean official

unobstrusively removed the two ladies, leaving the poor little man to

consume a double portion of rum omelette in solitude.

By running two tables together we managed to keep our party united,

and an invaluable waiter who appeared to know our wants by instinct,

dumped down several dishes of devilled kidneys and two magnums of the

best, which were consumed as though none of us had had a meal for a

week. We were doing very nicely, thank you, and Freddy and Fatty had

already fallen into a comatose condition when the room was electrified

by the appearance of Ironsides of Tydvil carrying the offensive

eye-glass person upside down by one leg. Several waiters clung unheeded

to his trousers, and the manager followed giving vent to frenzied

ejaculations. The creature’s disengaged leg had only just collided

with the head waiter’s face, and swept three glasses off a buffet when

the lights went out, and simultaneously a piece of grilled haddock

found a lodgement in my eye. Those in authority raised a melancholy

chorus of ‘time, gentlemen, please,’ with a foreign accent, and Freddy,

having tucked a magnum under each arm, led the procession to the door,

supported by Accrington with the bill pinned on to his coat-tail.

The subsequent adventures of the party were too varied to be described

in full, with the exception of Fatty, whom we sent straight back to

the hotel in a hansom, and who was discovered by the charwoman at 6.30

asleep under the billiard table.

The party that breakfasted at the Great Trafalgar next morning about

lunch-time was reduced in number and unusually thoughtful; the latter,

partly because it is extremely difficult to raise money in London on

Sunday, and partly owing to the frequent lubrication on the previous

evening. Freddy had already left by the Holyhead express for Coffington

Castle, Co. Down. In the brief message left with the night porter for

Squiff, he explained that he had been to see the sunrise from Notting

Hill, and had only just had time to fetch his luggage. Von Graussman

and de Beresford, who had slept in an hotel in New Oxford Street, left

by the Pullman train at 11.0 for Brighton to recruit, as they said they

had both had too much pastry the night before. All traces had been

entirely lost of Blandford; it is only known that he arrived home three

days later with a broken bowler and a couple of ladies’ cloak-room

tickets, and went to bed for several days. The rest of us returned to

Oxford to pack and go through Vivas. I think I endorse the opinion of

Fatty, who afterwards remarked that ‘The wicked flourish like a green

bay tree, though they much prefer the dew of Glenlivet to that of

Hermon.’

VII.

HOW WE RAGGED THE SUBURBAN.

Owing to the awful scenes on the last night of the ‘Cannibal Girl,’

musical comedies had become exceedingly unpopular with the authorities,

and so we had to rely upon the Suburban for what Squiff calls ‘an

occasional divarsion.’

It all began with the Fresher’s lunch in Wykeham’s. The Fresher is

exceedingly fresh for, well, for a fresher, and his lunch, like the

Miller’s daughter, ‘was fresher still.’ The party was a genial one,

though, with the exception of Reggie and Accrington, most of the

sportsmen present were recruited from circles outside that of the

Elect. I regret to say that I arrived last of all, but then I generally

do. I don’t think any of the best people would know me now if I came in

first to a public function; they’d think it was my double.

When I entered the Fresher’s room I found Lord St. Ronots and another

St. Union’s man called Hawkes, Downey of Lichfield, and a certain

Italian Count by the name of Imarisa. Reggie and Accrington had also

come in, but as they were busily engaged playing different tunes upon

the same piano, I do not include them among the respectable people.

As we commenced operations upon the inevitable lobster salad, and the

Fresher succeeded in inducing his scout, who had three other parties

on the staircase, to attend to us for fully two consecutive minutes,

St. Ronots remarked that the panto at the Suburban was not covered with

dust to any appreciable extent, which for St. Ronots, and still more

for the Suburban, is a great concession. Downey said that he intended

going to see the show, and when Reggie in his usual charming way

mentioned that I was going with him and several other people, I began

to realise that most of the very best would patronise the Suburban that

night. We decided to make a circular tour of the ancient and moth-eaten

city after lunch for the purpose of beating up recruits, but meanwhile

we were perforce constrained to turn our attention to the ‘savoury

viands’--as the late W. Shakespeare would probably have said.

There was no lack of incident to vary the monotony of mere eating, for

the Fresher persisted in consuming noxious Virginian cigarettes between

each dish, while Reggie accompanied every entry of the scout by martial

airs upon the piano. It may perhaps be as well to mention that this did

not necessitate any exceptional exertion on Reggie’s part, or he would

certainly never have done it, but he merely leant back in his chair and

played the piano with ease, the dimensions of the Fresher’s apartment

being somewhat restricted.

After lunch was over we all went round in a body to St. Union’s and

other Colleges in search of joyful souls to join us for the evening’s

jaunt, and while passing through the Corn on our way to Thomas’, we met

Elgar of King’s and two titled foreigners, who informed us that they

were ‘looking for trouble.’ This sounded promising, and so we enlisted

their services immediately and invited them to coffee at our digs after

dinner. We extended a like invitation to most of the other people we

met that afternoon, and then hastened back to the Pilot-House--as

Reggie now calls our establishment--to order a festive little dinner.

Our dinner party was a small one. There were only de Beresford, Evelyn,

and Farmborough, besides our three selves, but the real fun began when

Elgar turned up about half-past seven with an old pair of pyjamas,

which he proceeded to don, and then treated us to a wild breakdown,

regardless of the surrounding crockery and the unfortunate Mary

Ellen, who waited upon us in fear and trembling. As Mrs. McNab often

says to the Pilot, ‘It ain’t you three gentlemen what makes all the

rampagingses, but it’s them there harum scarum friends of yours,’ which

only shows how skilfully we conceal our little weaknesses from the

powers below, who are in this case the Dig-Master and his wife. When

we reached the coffee stage our little party increased very rapidly.

Many of the gentlemen assembled appeared to find coffee insipid, and it

was at this juncture that I discovered a bottle of Chartreuse in the

cellarette, which I seized with the intention of serving out a few

liqueurs, but there was no need for thimble glasses, as Stanhope and

Freddy took their allowance in coffee, Squiff mixed his with champagne

in equal proportions, while Elgar, who couldn’t find anything smaller,

lapped up a half tumbler of the fire-water with much pomp. Finding that

the bottle was quite empty I went to the window to see if any more

visitors were in sight, and beheld for the first time an enormous array

of cabs stretching for quite a healthy distance up and down the High.

As the liquid refreshment was completely exhausted and it was growing

late, I suggested an adjournment to the Suburban, and we left for that

festive old barn in a body, three men in each hansom. On our arrival we

soon skipped out and arranged to owe our cab fares, but taking tickets

was a slower affair. The ticket office at the Suburban is modelled

exactly upon those at railway stations, that is to say, it is placed so

as to present the minimum of accessibility with the maximum of draught,

but by dint of a little perseverance we eventually obtained two dozen

stalls and streamed along the passage to the door of the House. When we

got inside we were astonished to find more than a hundred Undergrads,

instead of the usual contingent of anything from five to half-a-dozen,

and this crowding unfortunately compelled us to divide our party. We

exchanged friendly greetings with the various people known to us, and

placed Elgar in an unobtrusive seat where he would not readily catch

the Manager’s eye, and then prepared to watch the show itself. A most

remarkable sort of Sister Anne person made his appearance upon the

stage soon after our arrival, and some people who were outside the

pale of the Elect assailed him with certain strange missiles, chiefly

horticultural specimens, which must have stirred up Woodbine the

manager, for immediately there descended upon us a shower of leaflets

setting forth that ‘nothing must be thrown upon the stage,’ that

‘bouquets left at the office would be handed on to their destination,’

and that any one guilty of disorderly conduct ‘Would be Instantly

Ejected.’ This unfortunate notice had exactly the contrary effect to

what was intended, and two Gloucester men near me, who had brought

a liberal supply of tangerines, immediately prepared for action. It

was patent to the meanest intelligence that trouble was brewing, and

Woodbine’s myrmidons closed up their serried ranks adjacent to the

door. I noticed that our little party was sadly scattered, but was

glad to see that Elgar was surrounded by several most stalwart allies.

At this moment Downey, who was sitting in front of me and close to

the outside of the House, on the left, rose in his seat and proceeded

to conduct the orchestra with a folded programme. Now, though this

is a form of amusement by no means uncommon at the Suburban, and not

altogether unknown even at the theatre, it is often allowed to pass

unnoticed and never evokes anything more than a polite remonstrance,

but on this particular occasion the melancholy Woodbine is evidently on

the war-path.

He advances to Downey, but instead of requesting him to leave off his

peculiar amusement, snatches wildly at the programme itself, and in his

anger falls over the men in front of him; then finding his own efforts

unavailing, he summons the staff of porters who wear the livery of the

establishment, and directs them to eject the self-appointed conductor.

As this motley crew advances, and Woodbine himself very cautiously

concentrates upon the rear, all the ’Varsity men in that part of the

House rise in their places and make it impossible for the mercenaries

to reach Downey, who is in the middle of a row, unless they first clear

the intervening seats by force. Woodbine, foiled a second time, now

summons O.P. 134, an enormous ‘peeler,’ who has been standing just

outside the door on the other side of the House. The Bobby advances and

endeavours to reach Downey, but is prevented by the men before him, who

have resumed their seats, but make an impassable barrier by setting up

their legs against the seats in front.

The officer of the law does not attempt to force his way through,

but enters the row behind, where the inhabitants are disinterested

strangers, and seizes Downey; then meeting with no opposition from the

occupants of that row, he grips his victim firmly by the collar, and,

pulling him over the back and top of his seat, proceeds to remove him

from the House.

But at this moment St. Ronots, who conceals a desperate character

beneath a mild and almost saintly exterior, took two flying leaps and

caught the Bobby round the neck while Hawkes jerked him neatly off

his feet. The gentleman in blue, as I have mentioned before, was of

colossal height, and also suitably proportioned, so that his sudden

fall brought down and completely demolished two rows of stalls, while

some dozen chairs were carried away by a sudden rush of the men behind,

who feared the impact of such an Herculean mass.

At this juncture I feared a really serious tumult, which would

undoubtedly have ensued but for two reasons. In the first place Downey

was seated quite close to the further exit, and, secondly, most of our

mightiest men of valour were too far from the scene of action to take a

hand. Though, as Accrington afterwards remarked, ‘It’s a cold deal that

leaves me out.’

This was a very cold deal, for poor Downey was only a carcase in the

grip of the monumental policeman, who soon regained the perpendicular

and hustled him out of the auditorium with most creditable speed. The

tumult, however, was not quelled in an instant, and Woodbine, who had

incautiously anticipated the Bobby’s victory, received a chair-back

just amidships, and went down among the dead men, to the detriment of

his pince-nez and eternal cigarette. Reggie, having nobly retained his

grip on Downey’s leg, was cut off by the sudden and quite unintentional

fall of a respected greengrocer, who tumbled off his chair and bore

poor Rex to the ground, while Hawkes, who had been endeavouring with

Elgar and St. Ronots to release Downey from the grip of the law, was

struck violently in the eye by something with the regulation number

of features. After these casualties, O.P. 134 got his man out into

the entrance, where he and No. 154 mounted guard over him until the

Proctor, for whom Woodbine had telegraphed, should arrive.

We could not induce the Bobbies, who were civil enough, to release

their prisoner. I tried reasoning with Woodbine, but he perpetually

shifted his ground, while his assessment of the probable amount of

damage at over forty pounds was so unreasonable that it was useless to

attempt to come to terms.

De Beresford, who had disappeared mysteriously, returned very soon with

a brandy and soda which he bestowed upon Downey, and then finding all

remonstrances with Woodbine quite unavailing, we resumed our seats, St.

Ronots, Elgar and everybody who had taken an active part in the fracas,

having executed a masterly retreat to their respective Colleges,

directly they heard that the Manager had telephoned for the Proctor.

I found a resting place on the wreckage of some stalls beside de

Beresford and Evelyn, with Reggie just in front of us, and we sat thus

until the familiar face of the most genial of the Proctors, followed

by a singularly funereal bull-dog, appeared in the doorway. At this

juncture Freddy, Accrington and Stanhope, together with about a couple

of score more ’Varsity men, whose faces we knew by sight but not to

speak to, departed comfortably and without any undue haste by the extra

exit. Most of us however who had perfectly clear consciences sat tight

and gave our names to the Proctor, not with any idea of ultimately

contributing to the University Chest, but merely as a guarantee of good

faith. As soon as we had performed our own particular share of this

little formality, Reggie and I with de Beresford left the house in

search of our first liquid refreshment, picking up on our way Stanhope

and Freddy who had been carefully concealed in the pit. We reached that

admirable institution, the Cowley Bowling Club, of which most of us

are members, and were enjoying a little well-earned refreshment, when

to our amazement the ubiquitous Proctor with the iniquitous bull-dogs

appeared in the entrance. Houseman advanced and was about to address

Reggie, who was surveying him with no very friendly expression, when

the excellent barman appeared suddenly from the back-room and asked the

Proctor if he was a member of the Club, which honour he was compelled

to disclaim, but expressed a desire to speak with some of the young

gentlemen present. The wily barman however asked if Houseman had a

warrant to enter the club, and on hearing that he had not, asked him

most politely to withdraw at once. The Proctor complied with this

request with the best grace possible under the circumstances, but I

have seldom seen bull-dogs look more malevolent than Houseman’s two

attendants. No, not even when a pair of them tracked me four weary

miles on foot only to find that the fair lady with whom I had been

sharing a cab at midnight was indeed my second cousin.

Having congratulated ourselves and the barman upon his presence of

mind, we finished our drinks and returned to the Suburban, where the

show seemed to be going on peacefully. Two bicyclists were chasing one

another round and round upon a sloping circular track at a tremendous

rate, and whenever they stopped for breath the showman filled in the

interval with an explanatory speech.

Unfortunately this same showman was an extremely sour looking person

and presented a most remarkable appearance. He had a brown bowler

hat and trousers, green waistcoat, and black expression, which ‘tout

ensemble’ constrained St. Ronots to cheer--though not very lustily--at

the wrong moment, thereby greatly enraging the human kaleidoscope, who

signalled to Woodbine to remove the Hereditary Legislator from the

House. That individual advanced with some circumspection and requested

St. Ronots peremptorily to ‘go outside quietly,’ but our friend who

had really done nothing wrong, not unnaturally declined to comply with

his request, and so the Manager was compelled to fall back upon his

oleaginous smile and the Proctor. That gentleman came across to the

Hereditary Legislator and exchanged a word or two with him and then

appeared to metaphorically put Woodbine through the mangle, for he

departed sadly to the Temperance Bar for another cigarette while the

Proctor went quietly home. For the remaining hour or so, we really

watched the performance, which was rather diverting, and leaving in a

body at about eleven o’clock, finished the evening in our rooms.

On Monday morning, in response to urgent notices from the Junior

Proctor, a large party assembled at the leprous hour of nine in

his rooms at James’. We noticed, as we entered the ante-room, the

Assistant Manager of the Suburban Palace of Varieties clad in the usual

check cycling-suit and bowler hat, besides several promising looking

criminals who were obviously witnesses in various cases coming up for

investigation. After exchanging greetings with Squiff and Accrington,

Reggie and I selected the two most comfortable chairs and sat down to

wait, while the party were passed in one by one to the torture-chamber.

More and more people continued to arrive, including Bob Parclane,

arrayed in the inevitable eye-glass and check-coat, who was conducting

a party accused of throwing bottles out of a window at an elderly

citizen. There were also two gentlemen of our acquaintance, who had

been so indiscreet as to empty the contents of a syphon upon some

wayfarer’s head below their windows in Unity.

After waiting an interminable time, during which the crowd at the

door never seemed to grow less, I was ushered in and questioned, but

on disclaiming any share in the riot, was politely bowed out. Reggie,

who followed me, could not truthfully say this, and was noted down

for further reference, and a share in the damages. By this time it was

ten o’clock, and we hurried off to join St. Ronots, who was waiting to

breakfast with us at the O.U.D.S., and to take tickets for the next

musical comedy, which was nothing less than the ever popular ‘Cinq

Demi-Vierges.’ In the course of the day every one who had attended the

Proctorial Levée received a notice regretting that the J.P. must ask us

to pay a pound apiece by that evening, which we accordingly did. It was

suggested that an indignation meeting of the shareholders in Bridgeley,

Houseman & Co., Proctors and General Collectors, should be summoned

to demand a statement of accounts, and Reggie, who had just paid four

golden sovereigns into the concern, waxed most eloquent upon the

subject, but nothing ever came of it. As the Pilot cheerfully remarked

on his return from taking a pound share, ‘It is indeed wonderful how we

put up with our Pastors and Masters.’

VIII.

AN EIGHTS’ WEEK.

‘This,’ said Freddy wearily, as he threw a cream coloured envelope

upon the table, ‘is too much of a good thing; here’s an official

announcement from Aunt Julia that she and her companion, a cheery

young thing of sixty-five, are coming up for a fortnight to enjoy the

‘boating-races;’ she casually remarks that the girls have only one day

vacant and that a Sunday, so that it will not be worth while their

putting in an appearance.’ ‘Her postscript,’ he added, with a look of

the deepest disgust, ‘runs as follows: “Dear Ophelia”--that’s the old

girl’s satellite--“is very anxious to see something of real Oxford

life, and hopes that you will arrange a visit with some nice young

fellows to the Bodleian or the Martyrs’ Memorial.”’

‘Pouff,’ blew the Pilot expressively, ‘what are our relations coming

to; but, if it isn’t rude, who is Aunt Julia?’

‘Julia Claudia Letitia Fanny, Dowager Lady Blitherington,’ recited

Freddy, ‘her husband was Sir Hophni Jenkins of the _Weekly Eraser_, who

bought a peerage by settling a Minister’s cab fares about forty years

ago. But seriously, we must get the girls.’

‘Oh yes, we must get the girls,’ echoed Squiff. ‘They’re awful

sportswomen, I met them last year at the Addison Ball.’

‘Oh yes, I remember them too,’ said Reggie. ‘They nearly ran me off

my feet, and I finally settled with Maisie in the Senior Tutor’s

rooms, where we sat out a considerable portion of the programme,

and incidentally consumed all the strawberries left on the Reverend

gentleman’s table.’

‘I fancy,’ said Freddy reflectively, ‘that they go rather too fast for

Aunt Julia, who, despite the decidedly _risqué_ tone of the _Weekly

Eraser_, is not as enlightened as she should be. I must write to Muriel

myself, I expect they’ve only got some wretched country visit which

they can easily put off. We couldn’t stand Aunt Julia unadulterated.’

‘Where did Miss Ophelia spring from?’ put in the Pilot, whose curiosity

is insatiable.

‘Oh, she was one of the bathing attendants at Margate when Aunt Julia

went down there in sixty-five, and she took such a fancy to her that

she’s kept her ever since.’

‘We’d better arrange a joint picnic for all our relatives one day,’

remarked Reggie, who often has these brilliant inspirations; ‘it will

save a lot of trouble, and they’ll all be pleased.’

‘They won’t be pleased with Ophelia,’ remarked Freddy unpleasantly,

‘but have it your own way,’ and he retired to write letters.

This conversation took place on the Sunday before Eights, after

breakfast, and having settled nothing as usual, we went out on the

river. On Tuesday afternoon at 6 o’clock Freddy, supported by Squiff

and myself, fetched up at the station to meet Aunt Julia. The train had

stopped fully two minutes before we saw a phenomenally unattractive

female descend from a first-class carriage carrying several handbags

and a diseased-looking spaniel.

‘That’s the Bugg,’ remarked Freddy dismally, as he slowly advanced to

the carriage from which Miss Bugg and a porter were heaving out an

inanimate mass clad in furs, lace and silk. Freddy placed his arms

gingerly around this relic and kissed it twice somewhere near the top.

By the time Squiff and I reached them, the object had begun to speak.

‘My dear Frederick,’ it was saying in feeble tones, ‘such a terrible

journey; poor Jacob was so ill, and Ophelia actually forgot the

curative capsules.’

‘The O’Rossa, Mr. Cochrane, Lady Blitherington,’ murmured Freddy, but

her Ladyship was busily engaged in administering to Jacob a capsule

which the Bugg had just discovered.

‘The O’Rossa, Mr. Cochrane, Miss Bugg,’ screamed Freddy, glaring at

Ophelia.

‘I’m so felicitous to meet you,’ replied the lady with a contortion

intended for a friendly smile.

‘I’m glad to see you’ve brought good weather with you,’ remarked

Squiff to Aunt Julia, ‘at one time it looked rather like a bad week.’

The Dowager was just about to reply when the arrival of her dutiful

nephew, vicariously laden with luggage, put an end to conversation, and

we helped the ladies into the Granville bus, accompanied by Freddy.

On our way back we spent a pleasant half-hour at the King’s Restaurant,

and so when we reached the Squifferies Freddy was already there.

He greeted us with unnecessary noise and stuffed a telegram into my

hand, which said: ‘Righto Thursday for a week be good Maisie,’ and

Squiff, having read the message over my shoulder, whistled softly

‘there’s a good time coming, boys,’ which Freddy interrupted by saying

to both of us,

‘If you can stand any more of the menagerie to-night come to dinner

with us at eight.’

We accepted, and arrived fairly punctually, to find Ophelia and Jacob

in possession of the private sitting-room.

Freddy of course was late.

‘O, Mr. O’Rossa,’ she began as Squiff advanced towards her, ‘do tell me

all about your daily provocations at Oxford.’

‘That’s rather a large order, Miss Bugg,’ said Squiff smilingly, ‘where

shall I begin?’

‘At the very beginning, please,’ she said, ‘say at your early morning

Church.’

‘Well, Miss Bugg,’ said Squiff, ‘you give me an account of how you

think we spend our day, and I’ll correct you if you go wrong.’

‘Very well. I’ve read such a lot about Oxford you know, I always took

such an interest in the dear Collegiates. I hear you rise at seven

thirty, and then all those boys who have lodgings within the walls

go to Church at eight, and afterwards a Parthian breakfast with your

friends; now tell me,’ she continued, ‘I am so interested in all these

things, do you perform your abductions at home or are there public

baths? And then,’ she went on, giving us no time to think what she

meant, ‘from 9 to 1 you attend the Professors, and the afternoon is

spent in some form of aesthetics, or anthropological research. At seven

you have dinner, and they tell me that the food is plentiful but bad;’

‘hear! hear!’ I remarked; she beamed and continued, ‘I’ve looked in

Verdant Green and the Student’s guide to Oxford, but I can’t get a

clear idea of how you spend your evenings.’

‘Chiefly in study,’ began Squiff solemnly, when he was interrupted by a

roar from Freddy, whose face appeared round the door.

‘What ho, Ophelia!’ he cried, as he came into the room; ‘On the go

again? Don’t you believe all they tell you.’

‘On the contrary,’ I interrupted, as Ophelia began a protest. ‘Miss

Bugg was instructing us.’

‘Your remark is somewhat exiguous, Mr. Cocklin,’ began the Bugg, when

the inner door opened gently and Lady Blitherington sailed in.

‘Good evening, Frederick,’ she said, and bowed to us, ‘I am glad you’re

more punctual than usual; poor dear Hophni used to say that if your

Uncle William had only been more punctual he might have risen to be a

credit to the family.’

‘Rather an unlikely contingency,’ remarked Freddy after we had put

the ladies into the lift, ‘considering that the old scoundrel drove

his wife into an asylum and then eloped to New York with a milliner’s

assistant.’

‘I suppose you’ve instructed Ophelia in all the Oxford customs,’

remarked the dowager as she sat down.

‘She doesn’t need any instructions,’ replied Squiff with a bow towards

the Bugg, ‘she’s read all the best authorities, Lady Blitherington.’

‘By the way, Aunt,’ said Freddy suddenly, ‘I’ve just had a wire from

Maisie, she and Muriel are coming here on Thursday for a week, isn’t it

jolly?’

‘Goodness gracious me, Frederick,’ exclaimed the old lady, ‘but never

mind, I suppose if they think nothing of putting off their visit to

the dear Archdeacon, I mustn’t bother about it; still it is too bad of

them.’

‘O no, Aunt, it’s very good of them,’ said Freddy, ‘think how they’ll

liven up the place.’

‘I don’t doubt that for a minute,’ said Aunt Julia, and snapped her

teeth with unusual decision.

‘Are you out in Chambers or in the College, Mr. Cockerel?’ enquired the

Bugg with a pleasant smile.

‘I’m sorry to say it’s my last year, Miss Bugg,’ I replied, ‘and I’m

out in digs, you must come and see them some day.’

‘I should love it,’ replied the companion with a rapturous gaze at the

electric light.

‘My dear Ophelia,’ interjected a warning voice from the top of the

table, ‘you can’t go without a chaperon!’

At this remark I heard a suppressed gurgle beside me and turned in

time to see Freddy hide his face in a napkin, while a soup spoon waved

feebly in his nerveless fingers.

Squiff, however, who has marvellous self-control, relieved the

situation by complimenting Lady Blitherington on the possession of

Jacob.

‘The smartest little King Charles I have ever seen,’ he said with

apparent sincerity.

‘Ah! Mr. O’Rossa, Ophelia will be pleased to hear you say that,’ said

the old lady, ‘she has tended that dog like a baby for the last ten

years.’

‘Do you care for dogs, Mr. O’Rossa?’ queried the Bugg.

‘I’m very fond of them, Miss Bugg,’ he replied, ‘I keep several at

home.’

‘How nice,’ said the Bugg feelingly, ‘then you must try White Rose soap

with them, I’ll give you a cake of it, there’s nothing better.’

‘I should be surprised,’ said Squiff emphatically.

Ophelia, however, did not appear to be troubled by the inanity of his

reply, but immediately passed on to discussing the ‘rowing races’ with

Freddy, who gave her exceedingly novel explanations of those innocent

affairs.

‘I suppose, Mr. Cochrane,’ said Lady Blitherington to me with a kindly

smile, ‘I suppose you may stay out till ten o’clock?’

‘Certainly, Lady Blitherington,’ I assented, but forbore to mention how

far she had undershot the mark.

‘Very well, then I will order tea for you before you go. I suppose you

like tea after dinner, Mr. O’Rossa?’

‘Very much, indeed, my Lady,’ said Squiff, courteously, ‘I esteem it

immensely;’ and this answer appeared to agitate Freddy afresh, as he

doubtless reflected that Squiff never touches anything milder than

Green Chartreuse after dinner except on very rare occasions, when he

condescends to a cup of thick Turkish coffee at the Trocadero.

Before Freddy had reappeared from the shelter of his napkin, Miss

Bugg, who had been endeavouring to shew me a new way of preparing

strawberries with a steel knife, cut herself, and left the dining

room in great haste, but we soon followed, and found her seated in an

arm-chair, with Jacob fast asleep in her lap and the promised cake of

White Rose soap in their immediate neighbourhood.

Lady Blitherington ensconced herself in the other arm-chair, while

Squiff, who has a fair baritone voice, sang us ‘Father O’Flynn’ with

more vigour than accuracy.

Just before ten an English waiter--born in Hamburg--appeared with

what Ophelia persisted in calling ‘a dish of tea,’ and that good soul

disappeared in search of Jacob’s own saucer in order that he too might

enjoy a little light refreshment before retiring to the elaborately

quilted basket awaiting him in her room.

I parted from Freddy and Squiff at Carfax, and on entering our rooms

found Reggie and the Pilot enveloped in a positive cloud of smoke,

discussing everything in general and nothing in particular.

‘Accrington’s people are coming up on Thursday, Martha,’ said Reggie,

as I entered the room.

‘Rot, Reggie,’ said the Pilot, ‘You mean Sybil Accrington is coming;

I don’t suppose you care whether her father and mother come here or

remain in Liverchester.’

‘It seems to me, Reggie,’ I said, ‘that what with Maisie and Sybil

Accrington and others, your hands will be pretty full this week.’

‘The pressing problem of the moment,’ said the Pilot, gravely, as

he spread himself in front of the fireplace, ‘is, how many pounds

of strawberries are required to feed five healthy English girls,

three elderly ladies, two lapdogs, and last but not least, eight

undergraduates. Freddy’s arranged a picnic for Sunday, and left me to

cater for it with his usual cheek.’

‘Which is his usual cheek, Pilot?’ asked Reggie in his most irritating

manner.

‘O the right if it’s left, but if that isn’t right the left,’ said the

Pilot gravely, as he heaved a book at Reggie and a sigh to himself, and

drifted off to bed.

When Reggie and I came down at 10.30 next morning we found the Pilot

interrogating Mrs. McNab as to how she thought trifle and Charlotte

Russe would go with cold lamb and salmon mayonnaise.

The worthy lady, whose brain already reeled at the thought of the

entertainments to be given at our lodgings during the week, was

standing in the doorway murmuring to herself ‘hadd a piece of nutmeg an

bile the ’ole in a pudden’ clorth.’

Soon after she had gone, a large brake stopped at our door and the

occupants in no mild terms requested Reggie and the Pilot to come out

at once, if they did not wish to go where the refrigerator is of no

avail.

They obeyed the call, but the Pilot in addition to his cricket bag

carried several wine lists and Hooper’s catalogue of ‘cold dishes for

picnic parties.’

In order to avoid a meeting with the Bugg, of whom I foresaw we

should see a great deal, I motored over to Banbury for lunch with de

Beresford. Thus it befell that I missed the most exciting scene of

the day when Jacob fell into the river and was rescued by a Humane

Society’s man, while the Bugg who had fainted on the Barabbas’ barge

was revived by a drop of the bargeman’s private store of brandy.

The crowd at the station, when we got there next day to receive

Blitherington and the girls, was something terrific. Nearly every

member of the University appeared to be expecting female relations,

and most of them must have been satisfied, for the crowd by the 11.50

was simply colossal, though our cheery trio were conspicuous by their

absence. After two or three minutes of unavailing search we secured a

harassed official who was buzzing round the mouth of the guard’s van,

and he assured us that a relief train would arrive in ten minutes, so

we possessed ourselves in patience and admired our friends’ sisters.

We were presented to Mrs. and Miss Accrington and had just caught sight

of de Beresford escorting his mother and her niece, the Honourable

Violet McNeill, who is generally admitted to be the most charming

débutante of the season, when the relief train steamed in and a second

scene of confusion ensued. Freddy, who is very quick in all things,

sorted out from a first-class carriage a faultlessly dressed young man

with a monocle and a pink-and-white complexion and two extremely pretty

girls, whom he introduced as my cousins Miss Coffington, Miss Muriel

Coffington, and Lord Blitherington.

His lordship created the first sensation by enquiring, ‘Is there a

really good pawnshop down here?’

‘Yes,’ said Maisie, ‘we picked him up in the Burlington Arcade

yesterday, kept him till this morning, gave him sixpence for a shave

and brought him down here, and now we’re all three cleaned out; but

he’s brought his gold-mounted dressing case to stay with a local

Hebrew, and so it’ll be pay day for everybody to-morrow. Now let’s get

up to the village inn.’

‘Don’t be in such a hurry, young woman,’ said Blitherington slowly,

‘always reconnoitre your country before advancing your main body; is

Ophelia with our Lady Aunt?’

‘Very much so,’ said Freddy.

‘Good-bye then, I’m going back to town,’ said his lordship as he

proceeded to climb back into the carriage: but on our pointing out that

he had no money, he was persuaded to accompany us to the hotel.

‘Only I warn you,’ he said with a weary smile, ‘if Ophelia commences

telling me about Jacob I shall either take to drink or emigrate.’

We could not return to the Granville to lunch, as Freddy and I had

promised to lunch with Cobson, and Reggie, who had been persuaded to

speak at the Union that evening, had his speech to prepare; however we

arranged to meet the girls and Blitherington in the gateway of Thomas’

at four o’clock for the races. As we were walking down St. Aldate’s

in the afternoon, Freddy, who professes a great indifference to the

charms of his fair cousins, announced his intention of walking with

Blitherington, so that Reggie and I were allotted to Maisie and Muriel.

We had only been waiting about ten minutes when the trio hove in sight,

Blitherington in a splendid flannel suit--he certainly does know how

to dress--and the girls in exceedingly light fluffy chiffons, which

always win my heart.

Freddy was inclined to be sarcastic at their little lapse in

punctuality, but Maisie at once said to him, ‘Now run along you quaint

old thing and try to make Blithers behave himself; can’t you see Mr.

Cochrane and I want to be alone?’

I had intended taking Muriel, who though very pretty is said to be

quieter than her sister, and giving Reggie the pleasure of Maisie’s

decidedly effervescent conversation, but after this how could I resist

taking her under my wing.

‘We had a lot of difficulty in shunting Ophelia,’ she said complacently

as we started off for the river, ‘the dear old thing is so keen on

seeing the boating-races, as she calls them.’

‘Yes,’ chimed in Muriel who wasn’t far behind, ‘we had to send a note

round to Charlie Hanbury at Barabbas’, who had already got half a dozen

maiden aunts encamped around him, and he promised to take her with them

onto the Barabbas’ barge at tea-time.’

‘Well now, Mr. Cochrane,’ began Maisie, ‘we’ve heard a lot about you

from Freddy; he says you’d make a cat laugh.’

‘I hope you don’t consider yourself a cat, Miss Coffington,’ I put in

quickly.

‘O don’t call me Miss Coffington,’ said Maisie crossly, ‘It’s such a

mouthful.’

At this moment Accrington and Cobson, who were rowing in our boat, ran

past us, and Maisie, after a hasty glance at their attire, remarked

simply, ‘How terribly draughty.’

‘What do you mean, Miss--er--Maisie?’ I asked.

‘Why look at their poor dear knees. Oh, but perhaps Oxford men haven’t

got knees officially any more than we have legs.’

‘You’ve got hold of a very good joke,’ I said to Reggie, as peals of

laughter came from behind.

‘Yes, Miss Muriel says,’ began Reggie; when Muriel held up a little

gloved hand in front of him and said, ‘Oh you horrid man, I shall never

tell you anything again if you tell them that.’

‘All right, then I won’t,’ said Reggie; and he didn’t till we were back

at home that night.

We went on to the Thomas’ barge, which as everybody knows is next door

to the Cecil’s, and found it crowded with the usual assortment of

Eights’ week relations, some of them surpassingly beautiful, but some

very much the reverse.

We could not find chairs for the girls, so Maisie sat upon a railing

with her feet hanging over the edge, till Freddy’s tutor came up from

below and informed him that it was hardly decent. So we sat down upon

the steps just as the minute gun went off.

‘What an unpleasant old man,’ said Maisie. ‘He’s obviously got no

daughters of his own or he’d be in better training.’

‘Oh yes he has,’ said Freddy, ‘but one’s the Professor of Archæology

at Girton and the other edits “Clippings for Careful Housewives.”’

‘Oh yes, I know,’ said Maisie, ‘if I scrubbed my face till it shone and

wore red flannel petticoats he’d have smiled upon me.’

At this juncture the starting gun boomed out, and very soon after the

mingled noises of cheering, rattles, horns, and all kinds of unmusical

instruments floated up the stream.

‘Are they coming yet?’ asked Muriel excitedly, as in her efforts to

get a better view she trod upon the hat of a lady on a lower step who

looked, as she subsequently said, ‘like a ferret with lockjaw’; ‘and

what boat’s that?’ as the top of the division began to appear by the

’Varsity boat-house.

‘Gloucester, I think,’ Reggie said. ‘Yes it must be, and there’s our

boat close behind.’

‘I think you’ll get them all right,’ said Freddy who with Blitherington

was suspended from the awning just above our heads.

‘I lay you a dollar they don’t,’ said the other, ‘why the beggars are

as blown as glass.’

Conversation then ceased as the two leading boats of the division came

closer into view. Gloucester were about a quarter of a length ahead

and rowing fairly evenly, while the Cecil’s crew appeared rather the

worse for wear, but in spite of this the fact of being opposite their

own barge and other people’s sisters nerved them up to such an extent

that they shot up level with the rudder of the Gloucester boat just

as they passed us. I caught sight of the face of the Cecil’s stroke,

a little man who splendidly exemplifies the old adage that ‘the best

goods are done up in the smallest parcels,’ and noticed that he at any

rate did not appear to be completely exhausted as yet. Their little cox

was rising up in his seat like a soufflé and edging the Gloucester man,

who had very foolishly taken the inner berth, closer and closer into

the bank. At last the oar of number two in the Gloucester boat grazed

the rushes and their cox was obliged to pull out into the stream, so

Cecil’s gained their bump just opposite the Lichfield barge and hardly

two lengths from the end of the course. The other boats all rowed over,

that being the only bump in the division.

When the Cecil’s boat returned to their barge next door to us we all

set up a tremendous cheer, and Reggie departed in great haste to

congratulate Miss Accrington, who was clapping her little hands with

the most sisterly devotion. I scrambled down below with Freddy to get

some tea, but this was a very hazardous business and it was nearer

twenty minutes than ten before I secured two cups for the girls, and we

waited patiently for the first division.

About half-past five the Thomas’ men came out on the raft just beneath

us and stepped gingerly into their boat which was the eighth in the

first division. Maisie fell violently in love with the cox, who though

exceptionally diminutive was possessed of a megaphonic voice which as

Freddy coarsely remarked, ‘Fetches the girls every time.’

The boat put off into mid stream, and when the cox repeated the usual

formula of ‘Forward, are you ready, paddle!’ in stentorian tones,

Maisie was so moved that I thought for a minute she was actually going

to jump in after him.

Blitherington, who had been down below consuming something which was

not tea, now reappeared and said, ‘Can’t we go down the river in a punt

for this division, Freddy?’

‘Oh, yes, certainly if you like,’ he answered, ‘I haven’t got a punt,

but we’ll soon get one.’

We all trooped down the steps, and Freddy pirated the punt of some

unknown scholar, while Reggie fetched the Pilot’s cushions from the

adjoining barge.

‘Now who’s going to pole?’ said Maisie.

‘O, Martha’ll punt,’ said Freddy, ‘he rather likes it.’

‘All right, I’ll take her down,’ I said, ‘if you’ll bring us back,

Freddy.’

This struck me as rather a cute dodge, for the stream will take anybody

down, whereas punting back up the river through about a hundred other

boats is a serious task.

Freddy however assented immediately, and we got under weigh, leaving

Reggie with Accrington’s sister. After we had secured a place in the

long line down the tow-path side we spent the time very pleasantly in

consuming sponge rusks borrowed from a Barabbas’ man next door who had

a tea-party in full swing. This same party was amalgamated with that

of Hanbury, and from the bottom of his punt the Bugg suddenly bobbed

up and hailed us effusively. Blitherington wanted to move on at once,

but we pointed out that we should not get such a good position anywhere

else, and also that the Barabbas’ rusks were very delectable.

We had been there fully five minutes when Miss Bugg gave vent to

a terrible screech, and we noticed that Jacob’s back was blazing

furiously with blue fire from the spirit lamp which the Bugg had upset

over him. She took off her cloak and endeavoured to smother the flames,

but Hanbury very unfeelingly threw Jacob into the water to the great

distress of Ophelia, who screamed louder than ever. We might have had

every canoe and punt in the river paddling up to ascertain who was

being murdered, but Blitherington quietly drew a cushion from beneath

Muriel’s head and with a well directed shot caught Ophelia in the back

of the neck. This treatment appeared to soothe Miss Bugg, though the

aforementioned six maiden aunts made some remark about ‘an unmannerly

young cub,’ and we had to persuade the Pilot, who passed at that moment

in a Canader, to take his lordship with him.

Soon after this all the first division except Thomas’ and Lichfield

rowed by us, the former having bumped the latter just above the Gut.

Immediately the last boat had gone by we pulled up our pole and started

up stream under the energetic if erratic guidance of Freddy. When we

came opposite the ’Varsity Boat-house we collided with a punt which

contained three elderly ladies and a harassed-looking clergyman, punted

by a meek individual who must have come from Park Temple.

Freddy, having bumped the Parson’s elbow, sheered off in the opposite

direction and ran into the stern of a canoe, the owner of which quietly

ladled a few quarts of water over Maisie’s dress.

‘Drat the man,’ she said, ‘Why can’t he--’ And then as he lifted his

hat and apologised profusely, ‘O pray don’t mention it, water can’t

possibly do any harm,’ and we went on our way, though perhaps not

rejoicing. The Thomas’ barge was too full of people thumping their

eightsmen upon the back, so we landed on the Cecil’s raft and walked

slowly back up the fine avenue, which was crowded with youth and beauty

all going in one direction.

There was no great excitement that night, and as Muriel complained

of being tired, the ladies retired early, while Blitherington kindly

organized a poker party in my rooms after the Union debate, and carried

off thirty shillings from our united funds. With the exception of

one and twopence this had all disappeared by the following morning,

for while I was in Freddy’s digs at about sherry-and-bitter time,

Blitherington came in to ask if he might put half-a-dozen collars and a

silk handkerchief down to his account at Sampson’s.

That afternoon we took the girls out in canoes for the Eights

and Maisie fell to me, while Freddy sacrificed himself to the

extent of taking Lady Blitherington and Ophelia out in a large and

equably-balanced punt. Squiff disappeared with Muriel in another canoe;

while Blitherington, to whom the sight of Ophelia is as a red rag to a

bull, persuaded Reggie to take him out in a punt alone.

‘What are you going to do with me this afternoon?’ said Maisie as

she settled herself in my Canader, ‘don’t you think we ought to have

brought Miss Bugg as chaperon?’

I suppose my face must have expressed my feelings, for she laughed and

added, ‘Well, we’ll compromise by taking Jacob,’ which we did.

‘I’m a firm believer in laziness, aren’t you, Mr. Cochrane,’ she said

as we turned up the Cher; ‘let’s get into some quiet nook and watch the

people passing.’

‘I like Oxford,’ she added after a short pause, ‘I can say what I like

without everybody thinking I mean something else. That’s sometimes so

unpleasant. I wonder,’ she remarked musingly, ‘who I’m going to marry;

what sort of person do you think would suit me, Mr. Cochrane?’

‘I should put you down for a Sir William Shipton or something like

that, Miss Maisie,’ I answered.

‘Oh! the money part of that is all right, but I want a respectable and

presentable person, not an aitchless remnant with a squint and large

feet.’

‘Oh! I suppose a decent sort of Englishman who bathes daily and plays

most games would do you,’ I suggested.

‘Yes I think so, but he must be big and strong to satisfy me.’

‘There are some of them to be found even in these hard times,’ I

assented.

‘Thank the Lord,’ said Maisie piously; and we changed the subject.

‘Look,’ she cried suddenly, as a punt containing a portly and

painted dowager shot past, propelled by a weedy-looking youth with

pince-nez, ‘that’s old Lady Dombonpoint, the widow of Sir Herbert

of the celebrated ‘Aurol for Aching Ears.’ She’s as rich as they

make them, and yet she only allowed her son, that sickly-looking

youth, half-a-crown a week for pocket money at Eton, and bought his

clothes from a slop-shop in Tottenham Court Road. But you know,’ she

continued in a whisper, although no one was near,--and when Maisie

whispers I know what to expect,--‘she was awfully gone on Blitherington

last season, and followed him all round the Park, not to speak of

country-houses and restaurants; he had a wretched time till she finally

proposed to him at Ascot on a coach. Of course he rejected her, and

then she fainted. He told me he might have stood her for a year, but

he was sure she was what he calls a “stayer,” and would live to a

hundred.’ Before I had time to make any comment on this extraordinary

episode in the life of the youthful peer, the Bugg’s voice penetrated

to our shelter and we caught the words, ‘I told him he was an idiot to

oppose the Plural Dean, and no wonder they call it the Church Irritant

if he is a curate.’ And the punt containing the inimitable Ophelia

passed on. ‘There!’ said Maisie explosively, ‘that’s a nice thing to

have tacked on to me, isn’t it? She’s Blithers’ bête noir; why one day

she told him that he oughtn’t to smoke, as it produced a weakness in

the pneumatic nerve!’

‘Yes,’ I said, ‘I’m sorry for you, but still you must admit she answers

the description that a certain paper bestowed on itself not long ago,

“Funny without being vulgar.”’

‘I don’t know,’ said Maisie doubtfully, ‘why I could tell you some

things she’s said that--well perhaps I’d better not.’

‘Oh! do,’ I said, ‘why not collect Buggisms.’

‘Why not, indeed,’ said Maisie, and thereafter a thoughtful silence

ensued.

‘I think it’s about time we went back,’ I said, having occupied the

interval in gazing at Maisie’s very shapely ankles; ‘I should like to

stay here for ever, but--’

‘Of course you’re bound to say that,’ interrupted Maisie, as I began to

rise ready to pole, ‘but the question is, do you really mean it?’

I was in the act of pushing off when a fearful shock sent me flying

into Maisie’s lap, and her parasol into the water. Maisie was just

preparing to utter her favourite ‘cuss-word,’ as she calls it, when a

cheerful and inane voice from the offending boat remarked languidly,

‘Hullo! Maisie, what do you stick your old hearse in the light for?’

‘It’s not a hearse,’ retorted Maisie, angrily, ‘and Mr. Cochrane has

been very kind and attentive to me.’

‘Oh! I’m sure of it,’ chuckled Blitherington, for it was he and Reggie

in another punt, though neither of them seemed to be punting, and

their boat was drifting broadside on down stream. ‘All the world,’

he continued, solemnly, ‘is attentive to its friends’ sisters and

cousins.’

‘If we want to see the Eights we must move on,’ I interrupted hastily,

as I saw Reggie beginning to give utterance to some home-truth, and

Reggie’s home-truths are the most unpleasant that I know. Fortunately

Blitherington assented, and so we all punted down to the barge

together. The races were most exciting to all but Cecil’s, who rowed

over hopelessly, being behind the bump of James’ and Llewellyn’s. It

was decided not to watch the first division, as Blithers had arranged

to drive a large party out in a coach to sup at Woodstock and return by

moonlight.

The supper in The Lion was an enormous success, and it is not wonderful

that on the return journey there was a great scramble for the inside

of the coach, the four places being eventually secured by Freddy,

Muriel, Reggie, and Sybil Accrington. As to what occurred I am unable

to make any definite statement, though Reggie insists that Freddy

kissed him by mistake in the dark, and this Freddy denies, like Peter,

‘with an oath’; however from the silence inside I gathered that

they were all enjoying themselves. Outside Maisie and I, Blithers,

Farmborough, the Pilot, Miss MacNeill and de Beresford sang comic songs

with ever-increasing vigour, while the Bugg, who had come as general

chaperon, rhapsodised into the unheeding ears of the Pilot, who had, as

he afterwards admitted, fallen asleep through weariness.

The next day was devoted to an inspection of the various colleges,

monuments, and points of interest, with tea afterwards in different

rooms, ‘a regular field-day for the Bugg,’ as Freddy aptly remarked.

On being questioned later as to what she had seen, she mixed up the

Martyrs’ Memorial with St. Peter’s-in-the-East, and stated at dinner

that she considered the Sheldonian ‘such an ornament to the Parks.’

In the evening Freddy and I conveyed the Famille Blitherington to the

O.U.D.S. performance in Gloucester Gardens, in which Fatty sustained a

prominent part very creditably, and Cobson did wonderful quick changes

as ‘2nd Lord, serving man, knight, soldier, citizen, and apprentice.’

Blitherington afterwards remarked to him, ‘My dear old native, if you

went on at the Pav. in town as Ratsini, the quick-change man, you’d

make your fortune, and probably marry some light of the variety stage

into the bargain. Try it!’

This _al fresco_ entertainment was over earlier than such affairs

usually are, and so soon after ten o’clock we left the Dowager and her

suite at the Granville and returned to our digs. As we ascended the

stairs we heard peels of laughter coming from the room, and Reggie’s

raucous voice enquiring, ‘Do you open’?

‘Lord, yes,’ said a lady’s voice, ‘I’ll let you in for twopence.’

A cheery poker party was gathered round the table, consisting of

Reggie, the Pilot, de Beresford, Accrington, and a very smart little

lady whose face was unknown to us.

‘Hullo, you birds, I didn’t expect you quite so early,’ Reggie

cried, ‘let me introduce you to my friend Mrs. Jack Lomond, Lord

Blitherington, Mr. Cochrane.’

The lady removed a jewelled cigarette tube from her mouth, and enquired

with a smile, ‘Won’t you join the dance, as they say in “Alice in

Wonderland.”’

‘Oh, don’t let us spoil your game,’ returned Blithers, ‘five’s the best

number for poker.’

‘That’s all right,’ said the Pilot, ‘we were just finishing this when

you came. Let’s turn it into Bank, if Mrs. Lomond has no objection.’

‘Oh, whatever you like,’ the lady put in with a smile; ‘you must be

rather surprised at my appearance here,’ she continued, addressing me,

‘but Reggie asked me down for the picnic to-morrow, and I hadn’t time

to reply, so I came in person, which is perhaps better.’

As we settled down at the historical round table to play Bank, I

observed that Blithers carefully commandeered the chair next to Mrs.

Lomond, and she enquired of him at once, ‘Are you any relation to

Billy Jenkins of the 110th? I used to know him when I was in India.’

‘Oh yes,’ returned Blithers cheerfully, ‘he’s my uncle, and a very

good sort too, but,’ he added with sudden apprehension, ‘please don’t

mention him to my aunt to-morrow, he’s the black sheep of the family.’

‘Poor old Jenks,’ Mrs. Lomond remarked reflectively, ‘I used to tell

him when we were at Jumbulpore that he’d never come to a good end. His

affections were too shifting; he never stuck to one love for more than

a month.’

‘Not even his wife,’ remarked Blithers solemnly, as play proceeded,

accompanied by much frivolous conversation.

Soon after 11.30 Mrs. Lomond rose to go, remarking, ‘It’s very good

of you all to have given me such a pleasant evening. See you in the

morning, Reggie.’

‘Half a mo, Mrs. Lomond,’ said Blithers, as he skipped down the

staircase after her, ‘I’m going your way, may I see you home?’ And they

left together.

‘Jolly little woman, isn’t she?’ said Reggie. ‘And clever too; she’s

got all the diplomatic posts attached to her petticoat, and Secretaries

of State attend her like lap dogs. Her husband is, I believe, in

Northern Nigeria,’ he added reflectively as we moved up to bed, ‘and

the date of his return is quite uncertain.’

The next day, Sunday, was that fixed for the great picnic up at

Marston, for which the unwilling Pilot had been appointed Caterer and

General Manager. A regular fleet of punts had been chartered to convey

the party, and cushions were piled in stacks, while Woodman’s express

toiled down soon after breakfast under an immense load of eat- and

drinkables. It required our utmost efforts to arouse de Beresford, who

had finished the previous day and commenced this by an all-night poker

sitting lasting till daylight. By the time Freddy had got his aunt and

Ophelia under weigh, and we had shepherded the girls from the Cathedral

to the barge, it was very nearly mid-day. The stowing process took some

time, though as I had already secured Muriel, Maisie and Reggie for

my punt, I did not much mind what happened. We headed the procession,

carrying, I fancy, most of the liquid refreshment, and punted up stream

at a fearful rate under Reggie’s guidance. We had scarcely passed the

Thomas’ ferry when a fearful yell announced that the Bugg’s parasol

had caught in the rope, and been carried down stream. It was rescued

by a man in a Canader and brought back to Ophelia, who beamed on the

canoeist and said, ‘So kind of you to have reprieved my sunshade.’ This

remark was passed down to the other punts, and reduced Blithers to such

a hopeless state that he declared himself unable to punt any longer,

and retired in favour of Accrington, who continued to propel the boat

for the rest of the day.

The party progressed without incident for some time, during which

Reggie, who had contrived that I should punt, engaged the girls in

conversation, which appeared to afford them immense amusement, but

which I could not catch; and though I repeatedly begged to share the

joke, their only reply was to shout in chorus, ‘Now do punt up, we’re

hardly moving.’ Their unsympathetic treatment at length moved me to

give up punting, and balance the pole carefully on Reggie, who after a

while bestirred himself to work.

‘I wonder,’ remarked Maisie contemplatively, as I seated myself

beside her, ‘whether anything liquid and cool is obtainable in this

department.’

‘I will see,’ I said, as I foraged in the end and discovered a jar of

Moselle Cup. ‘How’s that?’

‘Great,’ said Muriel and Maisie in chorus, as they each held out a

glass.

‘Ah!’ continued Maisie, as she gulped it down and paused to think,

‘I feel just like that mythological undraped person, who was always

drinking and never satisfied.’

‘There must have been lots of them, both the thirsty and the undraped,’

I said, ‘your description is rather vague.’

‘Yes, perhaps it is,’ she replied, ‘but anyhow I wish we adhered to

those ancient customs now, except perhaps that one about not being

satisfied.’

‘I think----,’ I began, when it struck me that my thoughts had better

be suppressed, and I relapsed into silence.

By this time we had pretty nearly reached the Rollers, so we waited for

the other punts to come up, that containing Accrington, de Beresford

and Ophelia being easily last.

‘Hullo Ophelia!’ cried Freddy as they came up, ‘I didn’t think it

of you, waiting there under the bushes for such a time with de B.

I suppose you felt rather out of it as gooseberry,’ he continued

addressing Accrington.

‘My dear Frederick,’ called out Lady Blitherington from a punt

propelled by the perspiring Pilot, ‘pray do not suggest such awful

things. I am surprised at you.’

‘Well, Aunt, if Ophelia will be such a giddy old thing, what can you

expect?’ Freddy answered, as amid general confusion we disembarked at

the Rollers.

The Bugg had got as far as ‘You’re that pernicious to annoy one--’

when her boat hit the landing stage with a heavy thump, and her

further remarks were lost. I noticed that in the general re-sorting

which took place, the Pilot contrived that Accrington should have the

honour of punting Lady Blitherington while he himself embarked with

Miss MacNeill, who is sometimes described as ‘amusing’ and sometimes

‘forward,’ it all depends on the age and sex of the speaker. The Pilot,

who is universally known as an old woman, says that a mean between the

two would probably suit the case.

‘O Reggie,’ said Mrs. Lomond, as she stepped carefully out of Freddy’s

canoe, ‘do come here for a minute, the bottom of that canoe was all

wet.’

Reggie trotted gaily forward and marshalled her towards a disused

bathing box following himself with a dish-cloth, but she gripped the

door firmly and said ‘Oh no, you must send me a girl, this isn’t your

innings, go and field outside.’

Reg commandeered Muriel, and Mrs. Lomond soon reappeared smiling, and

murmured to me as I helped her into a punt, ‘I’ll pay Reggie out for

that dish-cloth afterwards.’

We paddled round to pick up the ladies, and I found myself in de

Beresford’s punt with Sybil Accrington and the Bugg, who positively

declined to move into any other craft, though we all declared that the

boat was dangerously full. Miss Accrington and I held pleasant converse

amidships, while Ophelia, propped up by a four-gallon jar of claret cup

and two hampers, chattered cheerfully to de Beresford, who was punting

most skilfully. It is the one form of exercise that the dear old thing

is addicted to, and so we are very careful never to deprive him of

any opportunity to reduce his circumference. Among other things, I

discovered, to my great gratification, that Sybil would be at the same

place with us in the Vac.--pretty name Sybil.

The sun was shining brightly, the birds were twittering, and everything

was going beautifully, when the irresponsible Miss Bugg was nearly

guilty of the manslaughter of all four of us.

‘Mr. de Beresford,’ she murmured with an ingratiating smile, ‘do you

know I never care to see a musical comedy.’

‘Indeed, Miss Bugg, and how is that?’ the Pharisee enquired politely,

as he carefully wiped one sleeve and thereby allowed the water to

trickle on to the other.

‘Well, you see, I disapprove most strongly of all those ballet girls

looking like Lady Saliva in the streets of Coventry.’

De Beresford surveyed her solemnly for half a minute and then dropped

the pole and collapsed heavily on to a heap of cushions, while Miss

Bugg, who takes herself very seriously, prattled on about the elevating

influence of Shakespeare.

We glided quietly and peacefully into the bank, and there we stuck

till the Pilot came along and pulled us off, but the Pharisee was too

exhausted to renew his labours, and I was obliged to take his place

till we reached Marston. We arrived there first with the Pilot, and the

others turned up at intervals, each punt bringing a goodly assortment

of hampers and stone jars.

At last we had all assembled, the cloths were laid on a nice piece of

level grass, and the Dowager was comfortably settled on an air pillow

and a collection of punt cushions, when Ophelia emitted a melancholy

gurgle and cried tearfully,

‘I’ve forgotten Lady Blitherington’s little flask.’

‘Pas beaucoup, Ophelia,’ chortled his lordship, as he produced a very

diminutive silver bottle from the lining of his panama and gave it to

the Bugg. ‘I knew you’d lose it, old girl, so I just took the liberty

of removing it from your pocket when we landed at the rollers.’

Ophelia heaved a sigh of satisfaction and settled down beside the

Dowager, while we all bestowed ourselves conveniently around the cloth,

each one as far as possible next to the lady of his choice.

‘A little of the pink fish with the yellow blanket, thank you, Mr.

Cochrane,’ said Maisie cheerfully as I offered her a variety of tasty

dishes; the Pilot talked a lot about that picnic, but he certainly

managed it very well all the same.

Blitherington, who was seated only a few feet off, in fact just the

other side of Muriel, was what Maisie described as ‘on the war-path,’

and we heard him asking Miss MacNeill some most exciting riddles. He

absolutely refused to share them with us, until Reggie handed him a

dish of cold chicken and ham, and then after looking at it solemnly

for half a minute he turned his anxious gaze on me and enquired ‘Do

you know, my ancient lord of creation, why hotel chickens are like

ballet-girls?’

‘No,’ I answered feebly, I always seem to say ‘no,’ when I’m asked

anything catchy, I don’t think a fine frank open nature like mine is

adapted to discovering puzzles.

The incorrigible Blithers just chirruped ungrammatically ‘It’s because

they’re all legs;’ and by the time Lady Blitherington had turned her

lorgnettes in his direction he was busily engaged carving a saddle of

lamb for his fair neighbour.

‘Don’t encourage him, Mr. Cochrane,’ Muriel whispered to me, ‘If

Blithers once gets loose he’s apt to travel quite a distance, and he

only begins where Auntie draws the line.’

‘What’s that about drawing the line?’ asked Miss MacNeill, leaning

across towards Muriel with a bewitching smile.

‘Oh, I only said Blitherington goes a long way before he thinks it

necessary to draw it,’ Muriel replied.

‘It all depends what sort of a line you are talking about,’

Blitherington put in, ‘I know some ladies in evening dress who never

seem to be going to draw a line at all.’

‘Tut, Blithers,’ said Muriel, ‘you’d pervert an ecclesiastical synod.’

‘Not much,’ returned the incorrigible peer, ‘I couldn’t spare the time.

Suffering Sosthenes,’ he added after a pause, ‘just listen to Ophelia,

she mixes her metaphors like those Reading birds do their biscuits.’

At this moment Reggie, who had risen to search for the salt, created

a sufficient diversion by sitting down in the remains of the salmon

mayonnaise, and was accordingly compelled to take off his coat and

wear Mr. Accrington’s aquascutum for the rest of the day. Lady

Blitherington, who was much exercised by the unfortunate contretemps,

very kindly offered him her purple velvet cloak, but he declined the

proffered honour with thanks. The general attention was distracted from

the unfortunate Reggie by Blithers, who had discovered Accrington and

Muriel seated behind a tree discussing rabbit-pie and other things.

The most amusing thing about Accrington is the changefulness of his

affections; he has, as Reggie remarked not long ago, the most expansive

and expensive heart in Oxford. Only a week ago two of his ‘best girls’

arrived together quite unexpectedly and held prolonged and wordy

warfare in his rooms until they caught sight of some photos of a third

‘best girl,’ when they buried the hatchet and tore up the other girl’s

photos together. It may be added that when the third girl herself

arrived a day or two later, her rage at finding none of her portraits

on exhibition was only appeased by an even more costly gift than usual.

These facts being well known among his friends, we were not a little

amused to see that he had attached himself like a leech to Muriel for

the last three days, weather and Reggie permitting.

‘What about the Babes in the Wood?’ yelled Blitherington with his most

aggravating smile, as Muriel peered round the corner.

‘Oh! they haven’t arrived yet,’ she replied, ‘but what do you mean?’

Unfortunately this mystery was never cleared up, as Blithers returned

to the family circle and was busily engaged in feeding Jacob on

chocolate creams, which the faithful animal, to employ a euphemism,

soon contrived to unswallow in a secluded portion of the meadow.

As I turned to help Mrs. Accrington, who was most usefully employed

in showing an awkward squad how to wash dishes, a voice behind me

murmured,

‘Oh, Mr. Cochrane, please take me somewhere and give me a cigarette, I

simply daren’t smoke before the Dowager.’

Personally I always affect a certain brand of leaf-covered invention

known to the trade as cigarillos, but I obtained a supply of thin

gold-tipped cigarettes from Reggie, who always keeps a selection of

strange apparatus in his cigarette-case.

As we climbed over a gate and sat down behind the nearest hedge Mrs.

Lomond remarked, ‘Good boy, Reggie, I met him when I was out at Cannes

for the Ladies golf matches; he did everything for me except sign my

card.’

‘He’s a born organizer,’ I said; ‘the anti-dons campaign that he

arranged in Cecil’s prospered as no such enterprise has ever done

before, and he doped the porter so successfully that the only name

found on his black book next morning was that of an inoffensive Scholar

who was visiting a sick aunt in Penzance.’

‘I wish,’ she said, ‘that you and he would come up to town next week,

and help me run our theatricals at the “Regality” in aid of the “Home

for Helpless Hairdressers;” it’s bound to be a great success, the Duke

is coming at half-time, and I’ll introduce you to some of the prettiest

girls. If you like to wear an apron and carry a shaving brush in your

hand you might even sell programmes,’ she added with the air of one who

makes a great concession.

‘That’s all right for me,’ I put in, ‘but don’t you think that

Reggie’s heart is full enough already, and yet stay,’ I added, ‘there

is still room for a few more in bin twenty-three.’

‘How much do you expect to clear,’ I asked her after a short pause.

‘O several thousand,’ she said cheerfully. ‘You see the Duchess of

Dopingburgh is kissing all comers at half-a-crown a time, and Violet

MacNeill is going to serve at the American bar. But I think we’d better

be going back,’ she added, ‘if we don’t want to be left here for the

night.’

As we regained the scene of the orgy, Freddy gathered up all the

remaining cloths and thrust them into a small trunk, while Mr.

Accrington sat upon it and tried to turn the lock without much success.

‘There they are,’ cried Blithers as we appeared, ‘now let’s be going.’

‘What punt are you going in, Ophelia?’ Freddy enquired.

‘Oh, I’ll go in the most aggressive one,’ Miss Bugg replied with a

pleasant smile, ‘I’m all for going fast.’

And so we embarked in a most amiable mood. The return journey was more

or less uneventful, though my conversation with Violet MacNeill was

quite the reverse. The unfortunate de Beresford who punted us down must

have had a very poor time, for Blithers and Mrs. Lomond were much too

busily engaged to pay any attention to him.

As we proceeded up the Broad Walk Mrs. Accrington sidled up to me

and enquired with evident anxiety, ‘How do you think Steve is getting

on with his work? he writes us such cheering letters, but we saw Mr.

Yelland to-day and he seemed most despondent.’

‘O the Yelper is always a Job’s Comforter, Mrs. Accrington,’ I said,

‘besides poor old Stephen’s quite a model worker.’

This seemed to satisfy the anxious parent, and I guided the

conversation into less dangerous channels. Before the various families

split up we made arrangements for a round of sight seeing on the

following day, which was to finish with the James’ Ball. On the morrow

all my time was taken up with an old friend of the family who had come

down for the day, and I had to undergo all the sufferings of a hired

guide round Oxford who doesn’t know his subject well. I contrived

however to send her off soon after tea, and gained comparative rest by

a couple of hours’ bridge in Farmborough’s rooms. We all dined with Mr.

Accrington at the Hyde, and started about 9.0 for the ball, gathering

the famille Blitherington as we passed their hotel. After introducing

as many people as possible to all the girls, I completely lost track

of the party till about supper-time, being mostly engaged with my No.

1. girl from Somerville who is a very cheery little body but suffers

from worker’s conscience, a most distressing weakness which prevents me

seeing very much of her except at occasional dances. A ball at Oxford

is a wonderfully pretty sight, and well calculated to impress anybody

seeing one for the first time. All the men and the girls are young and

fresh, and there is a complete absence of the doddering old men and

young women of fifty who give a sad tone to big dances in London and

elsewhere. The handsome quads of James’ were most artistically lighted

with myriads of fairy lights and Chinese lanterns, and the beautiful

old-world gardens twinkled, though not too brightly, with wonderful

devices in red and yellow. Supper was laid in the fine hall of the

College and I secured two seats for Muriel and myself under a famous

Archbishop who has been dead for over three hundred years, and beside

Blithers and Mrs. Lomond, who were very much alive.

‘Martha,’ said Blitherington, as I sat down, ‘try some of this fizz,

it’s quite innocuous.’

‘What is it,’ I said, ‘Robinson pere et fils?’

‘O no,’ he replied, ‘it’s one of the non-poisonous varieties this time.’

However, Blitherington was apparently at fault, for I heard a warning

voice behind me saying, ‘I wouldn’t try none o’ that, if I was you,

sir,’ and I turned to see our old scout Webster who had apparently

been imported for the evening, ‘There’s somethin’ hin the Buttery as

might suit you, sir,’ he added. ‘There’s honly heighteen bottles been

hordered an them for the Committee, but I dessay as ’ow I can get yer

two.’

I clearly saw that this meant a Christmas-box to Webster, but readily

assented as one always does on such occasions, and the two bottles were

speedily forthcoming.

After supper I had a peaceful waltz with Miss Accrington; and

subsequently conducted Miss MacNeill to a dark staircase in the second

Quad.

‘It seems to me,’ she remarked after we had mounted a flight and

settled ourselves in someone’s rooms, ‘It seems to me that the world is

about equally divided between the loved and the unloved, and the great

thing is to avoid being in the second class.’

‘Well, of course we know which lot you’re in,’ I replied quickly.

‘That’s very nice of you, Marth--, I mean Mr. Cochrane, but I was just

thinking of the terrible number of girls who go through all this kind

of thing and linger on to become sour old maids.’

Although at that particular moment I happened to be holding Miss

MacNeill’s hand in order to keep it warm, it is quite impossible that

that could have been any reason for her squeezing it affectionately,

and sighing softly; however, it was very stimulating, and I went on to

say,

‘I believe the proportion of men to women in the world is about two

to three, even including black men, and I’m sure you wouldn’t marry a

Fijian or a Sandwichman.’

‘Oh, why not,’ she put in, ‘I think a Pacific islander would make

such a desirable husband. You’d know such a lot about him before your

marriage.’

‘Whatever do you mean, Violet?’ I asked.

‘On, no,’ she said, ‘I only mean that on a little coral island

everybody would be sure to know all about their neighbours, so that you

wouldn’t be likely to get hold of a post-nuptial surprise packet, and

anyhow, he’d be bound to be Pacific.’

It was at this precise moment that Feltham, the owner of the rooms and

a distant cousin of mine, arrived and remarked apologetically, ‘I’m

awfully sorry that there’s only that one chair in the room, but the

fact is they’ve commandeered all my best for the Ladies’ Cloaker at the

bottom of the staircase--’, but here I noticed that Violet had departed

with unusual shyness, and so I too withdrew hastily, leaving the owner

surveying his apartment with a puzzled expression.

As I reached the Quad a soft little hand was linked in to my arm, and

Violet enquired anxiously, ‘Do you think he thought anything?’

‘Oh no,’ I replied, ‘he couldn’t have, besides he wouldn’t say anything

if he did.’

‘Oh, all right, take me to get an ice, will you, Frank,’ she said

shyly, ‘it was so awfully hot up there, wasn’t it?’

I satisfied the fair lady with a marvellous icy rose with vanilla

petals and strawberry leaves in a little white frilling of Japanese

paper, and soon afterwards found myself dancing a most energetic set of

lancers with Maisie.

As we were leaving the floor after it was over, Maisie said to me with

a bewitching smile, ‘Have you found my cosy corner?’

‘I don’t see how anybody could find one with so many people about,’ I

very naturally responded.

‘O yes you can,’ she said, ‘come along, I’ll soon show it you.’ And she

guided me to a most beautiful arbour in the garden, where we watched

the mysterious romantic world outside crawling in and out among the

countless little red lights like a scene out of some worm and fire-fly

carnival.

‘Here it is,’ she said as she settled herself carefully and with an eye

to effect. I should always have thought that Maisie would have been

rather a careless girl, but you ought never to attempt to judge women

till you have seen a good deal of them; and even then you are apt to be

a bit previous.

I enjoyed myself immensely, and Maisie’s behaviour was most improper,

in fact I don’t know what her Aunt would have said, for she consumed

three cigarettes.

However, all good things must come to an end, and after wasting two

waltzes and a barn-dance on me, Maisie said that we really must return

to the Ball-tent.

This was the first Quad, which had been entirely roofed over, and a

beautifully swung floor put in, while all the passages and archways

were carpeted and the grim old walls hung with flags and festooned

draperies of the James’ colours.

Lady Blitherington had enjoyed her evening, for the Bursar of James’

was a former tutor in her family and had behaved like a hero to her and

Ophelia throughout the dance; as the Bugg said to me on our way home:

‘It was one of the most absorbent evenings I have ever spent.’

After Freddy and I had seen the old ladies back to the Granville we

returned to James’ for the photo, which was taken in the second Quad

by three separate photographers, who spent about twenty minutes over

preliminaries and only as many seconds over the actual operation.

It had long been daylight when I regained our digs and crept quietly

into my room without awaking the Pilot or Reggie, not that either of

them deserved any consideration, for the Pilot who sleeps next to

me snores like a foghorn, while Reggie very frequently returns from

town by the Dons’ lubricator about two a.m. and makes enough noise to

stampede a herd of wild bulls.

Tired as everyone must have been, we were all up by 12, and saw the

Accringtons off for Manchester, being especially dismal on saying

farewell to the charming Sybil.

There was a general move again in the afternoon, when the Dowager and

her party left for town by the 4.20, only leaving behind Blitherington

who, on hearing that Mrs. Lomond did not go till Wednesday, refused to

budge. Miss Bugg’s last remark to the effect that ‘her head was going

round like one of those aerated fans,’ failed to raise even a smile

from Reggie.

The Dowager extended a cordial invitation to all of us to visit her

in town, which was seconded warmly in my case by Maisie, on whom I

flatter myself--but no I won’t say what I thought, lest I be accused of

vanity, besides there is Sybil as well.

It seemed, as the Pilot remarked, very dull after they had all gone;

and the horrible flirtation carried on by Mrs. Lomond and her admirer

failed to arouse us from the depths of despondency, only partially

lightened by Cecil’s doing its fourth bump on Wednesday afternoon,

and the prospect of what Reggie called a ‘roaring old bump-supper.’

Perhaps, as Squiff said, when I suddenly discovered my Finals to be

only two weeks distant, ‘If you have your fun you must expect to pay

for it.’ So I consider a drop from a possible second in Law to a

certain third was not expensive.

OXFORD

BURROWS AND DOE, PRINTERS

THE HOLYWELL PRESS