dying away almost to silence as some stronger
or wilfuler aspirant held his own on the heads and shoulders of the
others, or was stayed there by his friends among them till he could
make sure of a handful of the flowers. A rush was made upon him when
he reached the ground; if he could keep his flowers from the hands that
snatched at them, he staggered away with the fragments. The wreath began
to show wide patches of the bark under it; the surging and struggling
crowd below grew less dense; here and there one struggled out of it and
walked slowly about, panting pitiably.

"Oh, I wonder they don't kill each other!" cried Mrs. Pasmer. "Isn't it
terrible?" She would not have missed it on any account; but she liked to
get all she could out of her emotions.

"They never get hurt," said Mrs. Saintsbury. "Oh, look! There's Dan
Mavering!"

The crowd at the foot of the tree had closed densely, and a wilder roar
went up from all the students. A tall, slim young fellow, lifted on the
shoulders of the mass below, and staying himself with one hand against
the tree, rapidly stripped away the remnants of the wreath, and flung
them into the crowd under him. A single tuft remained; the crowd was
melting away under him in a scramble for the fallen flowers; he made a
crooked leap, caught the tuft, and tumbled with it headlong.

"Oh!" breathed the ladies on the Benches, with a general suspiration
lost in the 'rahs and clappings, as Mavering reappeared with the bunch
of flowers in his hand. He looked dizzily about, as if not sure, of his
course; then his face, flushed and heated, with the hair pulled over
the eyes, brightened with recognition, and he advanced upon Mrs.
Saintsbury's party with rapid paces, each of which Mrs. Pasmer
commentated with inward conjecture.

"Is he bringing the flowers to Alice? Isn't it altogether too
conspicuous? Has he really the right to do it? What will people think?
Will he give them to me for her, or will he hand them directly to her?
Which should I prefer him to do? I wonder if I know?"

When she looked up with the air of surprise mixed with deprecation
and ironical disclaimer which she had prepared while these things were
passing through her mind, young Mavering had reached them, and had
paused in a moment's hesitation before his father. With a bow of
affectionate burlesque, from which he lifted his face to break into
laughter at the look in all their eyes, he handed the tattered nosegay
to his fath