do you get them? I should
like to buy one."

"Yes, they're comfortable enough," said Hardy, "but the reason I
have them is, that they're the cheapest armchair one can get. I
like an arm-chair, and can't afford to have any other than
these."

Tom dropped the subject of the chairs at once, following his
instinct again, which, sad to say, was already teaching him that
poverty is a disgrace to a Briton, and that, until you know a man
thoroughly, you must always seem to assume that he is the owner
of unlimited ready money. Somehow or another, he began to feel
embarrassed, and couldn't think of anything to say, as his host
took down the pipes and tobacco from the mantle-piece, and placed
them on the table. However, anything was better than silence, so
he began again.

"Very good-sized rooms yours seem," said he, taking up a pipe
mechanically.

"Big enough, for the matter of that," answered the other, "but
very dark and noisy in the day-time."

"So I should think," said Tom; "do you know, I'd sooner, now,
have my freshman's rooms up in the garrets. I wonder you don't
change."

"I get these for nothing," said his host, putting his long clay
to the candle, and puffing out volumes of smoke. Tom felt more
and more unequal to the situation, and filled his pipe in
silence. The first whiff made him cough as he wasn't used to the
fragrant weed in this shape.

"I'm afraid you don't smoke tobacco," said his host from behind
his own cloud; "shall I go out and fetch you a cigar? I don't
smoke them myself; I can't afford it."

"No, thank you," said Tom blushing for shame as if he had come
there only to insult his host, and wishing himself heartily out
of it, "I've got my case here; and the fact is I will smoke a
cigar if you'll allow me, for I'm not up to pipes yet. I wish
you'd take some," he went on, emptying his cigars on to the
table.

"Thank'ee," replied his host, "I prefer a pipe. And now what will
you have to drink? I don't keep wine but I can get a bottle of
anything you like from the common room. That's one of _our_
privileges,"--he gave a grim chuckle as he emphasised the word
"our".

"Who on earth are _we_?" thought Tom "servitors I suppose," for
he knew already that undergraduates in general could not get wine
from the college cellars.

"I don't care a straw about wine," said he, feeling very hot
about the ears; "a glass of beer, or anything you have here--or
tea."

"Well, I can give you a pretty good glas