, as
he stepped out into the light in night-shirt, shooting-coat, and
dishevelled hair, appeased him at once.

"Why, Brown, you don't mean to say you have been in bed this last
half-hour? We looked into the bed-room, and thought it was empty.
Sit down, old fellow, and make yourself at home. Have a glass of
grog; it's first-rate whisky."

"Well you're a couple of cool hands, I must say," said Tom. "How
did you get in?"

"Through the door, like honest men," said Drysdale. "You're the
only good fellow in college to-night. When we got back our fires
were out, and we've been all round the college, and found all the
oaks sported but yours. Never sport your oak, old boy; it's a bad
habit. You don't know what time in the morning you may entertain
angels unawares."

"You're a rum pair of angels, anyhow," said Tom, taking his seat
on the sofa. "But what o'clock is it?"

"Oh, about half-past one," said Drysdale. "We've had a series of
catastrophes. Never got into college till near one. I thought we
should never have waked that besotted little porter. However,
here we are at last, you see, all right."

"So it seems," said Tom; "but how about the fishing?"

"Fishing! We've never thrown a fly all day," said Drysdale.

"He is so cursedly conceited about his knowledge of the country,"
struck in Blake. "What with that, and his awful twist, and his
incurable habit of gossiping, and his blackguard dog, and his
team of a devil and a young female--"

"Hold your scandalous tongue," shouted Drysdale. "To hear _you_
talking of my twist, indeed; you ate four chops and a whole
chicken to-day, at dinner, to your own cheek, you know."

"That's quite another thing," said Blake. "I like to see a fellow
an honest grubber at breakfast and dinner; but you've always got
your nose in the manger. That's how we all got wrong to-day,
Brown. You saw what a breakfast he ate before starting; well,
nothing would satisfy him but another at Whitney. There we fell
in with a bird in mahogany tops, and, as usual, Drysdale began
chumming with him. He knew all about the fishing of the next
three counties. I daresay he did. My private belief is, that he
is one of the Hungerford town council, who let the fishing there;
at any rate, he swore it was no use our going to Fairford; the
only place where fish would be in season was Hungerford. Of
course Drysdale swallowed it all, and nothing would serve him but
that we should turn off for Hungerford at once. Now