ould have been a mistake to suppose that Robinson was really
humble. He was, on the contrary, proud. Proud because he was part of
King's College and had been a part thereof for fifty years, and his
father had been part before him. But his pride went further. He was
proud of the way he waited. He moved about the room, skimming the edges
of the long table and circumventing chairs and protruding backs of
awkward guests with peculiar skill. Robinson would have had much
sympathy with the Oxford chaplain who offered to give any other clerical
gentlemen a generous handicap in the Creed and beat them. Robinson, had
he been an ecclesiastic, would have made such a boast himself. As it
was, he prided himself on being able to serve round an "ontray" on his
own side of the table and lap over two out of the other man's, easy.
Robinson was also proud of having a master with a distinguished
appearance, and this without any treachery to the late Warden's bald
head and exceedingly casual nose. There was no obligation on Robinson's
part to back up the old Warden against the new, or indeed the new
against the old, because all Wardens were Wardens, and the College was
continuous and eternal.

Robinson gloried on there being many thousand volumes in the library.
Mrs. Robinson did not share his enthusiasm. He enjoyed opening the door
to other Heads of colleges and saying: "Not at 'ome, sir. Is there any
message I can take, sir?" for Robinson felt that he was negotiating
important affairs that affected the welfare of Oxford. When waiting on
the Warden, Robinson's solemnity was not occasioned by pure meekness,
nor was his deferential smile (when a smile was suitable) an exposition
of snobbery nor the flattery of the wage-earner. Robinson was gratifying
his own vanity; he was showing how he grasped the etiquette of his
profession. Also he experienced pleasure in being necessary to a human
being whose manner and tastes were as impressive as they were
unaccountable.

"There's more of these 'ere periodicals coming in," he said that very
afternoon, as he arranged the lamp in the library, "though there aren't
no more Germans among 'em, than there ever were before in my time." He
spoke to Robinson Junior, who had followed him into the library.

"'E don't read 'em," said Robinson Junior, his nose elevated, in the act
of drawing the curtains.

"'Ow d'you know?" asked Robinson.

"They ain't cut, not all of 'em," said Junior.

"'E don't read the st