come from the river,"
she said gravely.

"Yes? And did the College make its fourth bump to-night?"

"I--I don't know, grand-papa. There was so much happening. It--I will
tell you all about it at dinner."

"Ah, but to-night," he said, indicating his gown, "I cannot be with you.
The bump-supper, you know. I have to preside in Hall."

Zuleika had forgotten there was to be a bump-supper, and, though she
was not very sure what a bump-supper was, she felt it would be a mockery
to-night.

"But grand-papa--" she began.

"My dear, I cannot dissociate myself from the life of the College. And,
alas," he said, looking at the clock, "I must leave you now. As soon as
you have finished dinner, you might, if you would care to, come and peep
down at us from the gallery. There is apt to be some measure of
noise and racket, but all of it good-humoured and--boys will be
boys--pardonable. Will you come?"

"Perhaps, grand-papa," she said awkwardly. Left alone, she hardly knew
whether to laugh or cry. In a moment, the butler came to her rescue,
telling her that dinner was served.

As the figure of the Warden emerged from Salt Cellar into the Front
Quadrangle, a hush fell on the group of gowned Fellows outside the Hall.
Most of them had only just been told the news, and (such is the force
of routine in an University) were still sceptical of it. And in face of
these doubts the three or four dons who had been down at the river were
now half ready to believe that there must, after all, be some mistake,
and that in this world of illusions they had to-night been specially
tricked. To rebut this theory, there was the notable absence of
undergraduates. Or was this an illusion, too? Men of thought, agile on
the plane of ideas, devils of fellows among books, they groped feebly
in this matter of actual life and death. The sight of their Warden
heartened them. After all, he was the responsible person. He was father
of the flock that had strayed, and grandfather of the beautiful Miss
Zuleika.

Like her, they remembered not to smile in greeting him.

"Good evening, gentlemen," he said. "The storm seems to have passed."

There was a murmur of "Yes, Warden."

"And how did our boat acquit itself?"

There was a shuffling pause. Every one looked at the Sub-Warden: it was
manifestly for him to break the news, or to report the hallucination. He
was nudged forward--a large man, with a large beard at which he plucked
nervously.

"Well, really, Wa