tural prop and supporter in the
University, whose one object in life just now would be to take
trouble off his hands, and who was of that rare and precocious
steadiness of character that he might be as safely trusted as a
Spanish duenna. To a very considerable extent the victim fell
into the toils. He had many old friends at the colleges, and was
very fond of good dinners, and long sittings afterwards. This
very evening he was going to dine at St. John's, and had been
much troubled at the idea of having to leave the unrivalled old
port of that learned house to escort his daughter and niece to
the Long Walk. Still he was too easy and good-natured not to wish
that they might get there, and did not like the notion of their
going with perfect strangers. Here was a compromise. His nephew
was young, but still he was a near relation, and in fact it gave
the poor old man a plausible excuse for not exerting himself as
he felt he ought to do, which was all he ever required for
shifting his responsibilities and duties upon other shoulders.

So Tom waited quietly till the young ladies came home, which they
did just before hall-time. Mr. Winter was getting impatient. As
soon as they arrived he started for St. John's, after advising
them to remain at home for the evening, as they looked quite
tired and knocked up; but if they resolved to go to the Long
Walk, his nephew would escort them.

"How can Uncle Robert say we look so tired?" said Mary,
consulting the glass on the subject; "I feel quite fresh. Of
course, Katie, you mean to go to the Long Walk?"

"I hope you will go," said Tom; "I think you owe me some amends.
I came here according to order this morning, and you were not in,
and I have been trying to catch you ever since."

"We couldn't help it," said Miss Winter; "indeed we have not had
a minute to ourselves all day. I was very sorry to think that we
should have brought you here for nothing this morning."

"But about the Long Walk, Katie?"

"Well, don't you think we have done enough for to-day? I should
like to have tea and sit quietly at home, as papa suggested."

"Do you feel very tired, dear?" said Mary, seating herself by her
cousin on the sofa, and taking her hand.

"No, dear, I only want a little quiet and a cup of tea."

"Then let us stay here quietly till it is time to start. When
ought we to get to the Long Walk?"

"About half-past seven," said Tom; "you shouldn't be much later
than that."

"There you