wine party at Hendon's. Do you know any of that
set?"

"No, except Grey, who came into residence in the same term with
me; we have been reading for degree together. You must have seen
him here sometimes in the evenings."

"Yes, I remember; the fellow with a stiff neck, who won't look
you in the face."

"Ay, but he is a sterling man at the bottom, I can tell you."

"Well, he wasn't there. You don't know any of the rest?"

"No."

"And never went to any of their parties?"

"No."

"You've had no loss, I can tell you," said Tom, pleased that the
ground was clear for him. "I never was amongst such a set of
waspish, dogmatical, over-bearing fellows in my life."

"Why, what in the name of fortune have they been doing to you?
How did you fall among such Philistines?"

"I'm such an easy fool, you see," said Tom, "I go off directly
with any fellow that asks me; fast or slow, it's all the same. I
never think twice about the matter, and generally, I like all the
fellows I meet, and enjoy everything. But just catch me at
another of their stuck-up wines, that's all."

"But you won't tell me what's the matter."

"Well, I don't know why Hendon should have asked me. He can't
think me a likely card for a convert, I should think. At any
rate, he asked me to wine, and I went as usual. Everything was in
capital style (it don't seem to be any part of their creed, mind
you, to drink bad wine), and awfully gentlemanly and decorous."

"Yes, that's aggravating, I admit. It would have been in better
taste, of course, if they had been a little blackguard and
indecorous. No doubt, too, one has a right to expect bad wine at
Oxford. Well?"

Hardy spoke so gravely, that Tom had to look across at him for
half a minute to see whether he was in earnest. Then he went on
with a grin.

"There was a piano in one corner, and muslin curtains--I give you
my word, muslin curtains, besides the stuff ones."

"You don't say so," said Hardy; "put up, no doubt, to insult you.
No wonder you looked, so furious when you came in. Anything
else?"

"Let me see--yes--I counted three sorts of scents on the
mantel-piece, besides Eau-de-Cologne. But I could have stood it
well enough if it hadn't been for their talk. From one thing to
another they got to cathedrals, and one of them called St. Paul's
'a disgrace to a Christian city;' I couldn't stand that, you
know. I was always bred to respect St. Paul's; weren't you?"

"My education in that line was n