by his friend's good-humour.

"Are you?" said Drysdale; "it's more than I am, then, I can tell
you. If you could have seen yourself under the willows, you
wouldn't have thought yourself much of an object of envy. Jack
and I were quite satisfied with our share of work and glory on
the bank. Weren't we, old fellow?" at which salutation Jack
reared himself on his hind legs and licked his master's hand.

"Well, you're a real good fellow for taking it as you do. I don't
think I could have come near the river if I had been you."

"I take everything as it comes," said Drysdale. "The next race is
on Derby day, and I couldn't have gone if I hadn't been turned
out of the boat; that's a compensation, you see. Here we are. I
wonder if Miss Patty has heard of the victory?"

They turned down the little passage entrance of "The Choughs" as
he spoke, followed by most of the crew, and by a tail of younger
St. Ambrosians, their admirers, and the bar was crowded the next
moment. Patty was there, of course, and her services were in
great requisition; for though each of the crew only took a small
glass of the old ale, they made as much fuss about it with the
pretty barmaid as if they were drinking hogsheads. In fact, it
had become clearly the correct thing with the St. Ambrosians to
make much of Patty; and, considering the circumstances, it was
only a wonder that she was not more spoiled than seemed to be the
case. Indeed, as Hardy stood up in the corner opposite to the
landlady's chair, a silent onlooker at the scene, he couldn't
help admitting to himself that the girl held her own well,
without doing or saying anything unbecoming a modest woman. And
it was a hard thing for him to be fair to her, for what he saw
now in a few minutes confirmed the impression which his former
visit had left on his mind--that his friend was safe in her
toils; how deeply, of course he could not judge, but that there
was more between them than he could approve was now clear enough
to him, and he stood silent, leaning against the wall in that
farthest corner, in the shadow of a projecting cupboard, much
distressed in mind, and pondering over what it behove him to do
under the circumstances. With the exception of a civil sentence
or two to the old landlady who sat opposite him knitting, and
casting rather uneasy looks from time to time towards the front
of the bar, he spoke to no one. In fact, nobody came near that
end of the room, and their existence seeme