atform by going in on the High
Church business from which to look down on their neighbors."

"That's just what I thought," said Tom, "they tried to push
mother Church, mother Church, down my throat at every turn; I'm
as fond of the Church as any of them, but I don't want to be
jumping up on her back every minute, like a sickly chicken
getting on the old hen's back to warm its feet whenever the
ground is cold, and fancying himself taller than all the rest of
the brood."

"You were unlucky," said Hardy; "there are some very fine fellows
amongst them."

"Well, I haven't seen much of them," said Tom, "and I don't want
to see any more, for it seems to be all Gothic mouldings and
man-millinery business."

"You won't think so when you've been up a little longer." said
Hardy, getting up to make tea, which operation he had hardly
commenced, when a knock came at the door, and in answer to
Hardy's "Come in," a slight, shy man appeared, who hesitated, and
seemed inclined to go when he saw that Hardy was not alone.

"Oh, come in, and have a cup of tea, Grey. You know Brown, I
think?" said Hardy, looking round from the fire, where he was
filling his teapot, to watch Tom's reception of the new comer.

Our hero took his feet down, drew himself up and made a solemn
bow, which Grey returned, and then slid nervously into a chair
and looked very uncomfortable. However, in another minute Hardy
came to the rescue and began pouring out the tea. He was
evidently tickled at the idea of confronting Tom so soon with
another of his enemies. Tom saw this, and put on a cool and
majestic manner in consequence, which evidently increased the
discomfort of Grey's seat, and kept Hardy on the edge of an abyss
of laughter. In fact, he had to ease himself by talking of
indifferent matters and laughing at nothing. Tom had never seen
him in this sort of humor before, and couldn't help enjoying it,
though he felt that it was partly at his own expense. But when
Hardy once just approached the subject of the wine party, Tom
bristled up so quickly, and Grey looked so meekly wretched,
though he knew nothing of what was coming, that Hardy suddenly
changed the subject, and turning to Grey, said--

"What have you been doing the last fortnight? You haven't been
here once. I've been obliged to get on with my Aristotle without
you."

"I'm very sorry indeed, but I haven't been able to come," said
Grey, looking sideways at Hardy, and then at Tom, who sat
rega