f the St. Joseph's
boat, performed a few innocent tricks, to the great diversion of the
crowd, whilst Bindle, drawing from his pocket a red pocket-handkerchief
with the five stars of Australia upon it, alternately waved his
acknowledgments and lifted his hat.

"I never knew young fellers like this could be so friendly," he
muttered.

Graves spent his time alternately in praying that no one might see him
and that Bindle would become less uproariously genial.

Having passed up and down every street of importance, the procession
finally made its way to the Sceptre, where Bindle alighted and was
conducted to his apartments by the bland manager. At every turn were
to be seen obsequious and deferential servants, who had one eye on him
and the other on the day of reckoning.

A late edition of that evening's _Oxford Courier_ contained a piquant
account of the reception accorded to Mr. Josiah Williams. It referred
to the generous if boisterous humour of the undergraduates. It went on
to state how

"our representative called at the Sceptre, where he was so fortunate as
to catch the distinguished visitor just as he was entering. Mr.
Williams is delighted with Oxford, his welcome, and everybody he has
met. 'They say English people are stiff and stand-offish--why, I've
had to change my collar. Kicking kangaroos!' exclaimed Mr. Williams,
'this is some country.'

"The first thing that struck our representative about Mr. Williams was
his genial and pleasant bearing and entire absence of self-importance.
He is obviously a simple man, unspoiled by his great success."

Reginald Graves shuddered as he read this in the privacy of his own
rooms, remembering Bindle's accent and deportment.

"Although he would neither confess nor deny it, we understand that Mr.
Williams is in England in connection with certain philanthropic
schemes. We congratulate Mr. Reginald Graves on possessing as an uncle
Mr. Josiah Williams, and Oxford on possessing Mr. Reginald Graves, if
only for a short time."

II

"So you're Polly's boy." Bindle was receiving in his sitting-room at
the Sceptre, surrounded by the leading spirits of St. Joseph's,
including the kangaroo, which was clutching a large glass of
shandygaff. In the public bar below the band was busy realising what
hitherto had been little more than an ambition, and about "the High"
the remains of the crowd lingered.

"Reginald's your name, ain't it?" Bindle continued. "Reg wil