iasms and now at the critical moment his stock of
nerve and energy was at a low ebb. He went in depressed and tired,
his friends watching anxiously for the result. On the day of the Logic
paper, as he emerged into the Schools quadrangle, he felt his arm caught
by Mr. Grey.

'Come with me for a walk, Elsmere; you look as if some air would do you
good.'

Robert acquiesced, and the two men turned into the passageway leading
out on to Radcliffe Square.

'I have done for myself, sir,' said the youth, with a sigh, half
impatience, half depression. 'It seems to me to-day that I had neither
mind nor memory. If I get a second I shall be lucky.'

'Oh, you will get your second whatever happens,' said Mr. Grey, quietly,
'and you mustn't be too much cast down about it if you don't get your
first.'

This implied acceptance of his partial defeat, coming from another's
lips, struck the excitable Robert like a lash. It was only what he had
been saying to himself, but in the most pessimist forecasts we make for
ourselves, there is always an under-protest of hope.

'I have been wasting my time here lately,' he said, hurriedly raising
his college cap from his brows as if it oppressed them, and pushing his
hair back with a weary, restless gesture.

'No,' said Mr. Grey, turning his kind, frank eyes upon him. 'As far as
general training goes, you have not wasted your time at all. There are
many clever men who don't get a first class, and yet it is good for them
to be here--so long as they are not loungers and idlers, of course.
And you have not been a lounger; you have been headstrong and a little
over-confident, perhaps,'--the speaker's smile took all the sting out
of the words--'but you have grown into a man, you are fit now for man's
work. Don't let yourself be depressed, Elsmere. You will do better in
life than you have done in examination.'

The young man was deeply touched. This tone of personal comment and
admonition was very rare with Mr. Grey. He felt a sudden consciousness
of a shared burden which was infinity soothing, and though he made no
answer, his face lost something of its harassed look, as the two walked
on together down Oriel Street and into Merton Meadows.

'Have you any immediate plans?' said Mr. Grey, as they turned into the
Broad Walk, now in the full leafage of June, and rustling under a brisk
western wind blowing from the river.

'No; at least I suppose it will be no good my trying for a fellowship.
But I