s thing which once had been an active, ambitious soul. Wearily
he vented his wrath upon the form.

His method was, as a rule, the sarcasm courteous. He lounged
magnificently while he played with his victim.

"Simpson!" This to a clever but idle youth remarkable for his large,
inky hands and persistent untidiness of apparel. There was something
in Simpson's grimy collars and straggling bootlaces that infuriated
Vickers.

"Simpson!"

"Yes, sir?"

"You owe me, I think, a rendering of Virgil."

"Please, sir, I haven't quite finished it yet, sir."

"And how much, may I ask, have you finished?"

"Well, sir, last night I had the Agamemnon chorus."

"I see, Simpson. I see."

"Please, sir, I was very busy."

"Our Simpson was busy early this morning also, I suppose."

"Yes, sir."

"At your ablutions, I presume."

Here the form would laugh: Simpson's cleanliness was a standing joke.

"Please, sir, I didn't wake up very early."

"That was very distressing."

There was a silence. "Well, Simpson?" Vickers would continue in his
softest tone.

Simpson gazed moodily at the desk, digging nibs into the wood.

"Our Simpson seems fonder of water than of Maro. We must tighten the
bonds between Simpson and the poet. May I say the whole of the first
Georgic this time?"

"Oh, sir."

"You think the quantity excessive?"

Simpson summoned up his courage and said he did think so.

"Ah, but the verse is so beautiful," came the answer. "I couldn't
deprive you, Simpson. Anyhow, you may begin your _magnum opus_ and let
me know when you have reached line two hundred."

"Yes, sir."

"Thank you, Simpson, that will be delightful. You were translating,
Grant, I think."

Vickers aimed at being a strong man and he never set a grammar paper in
which he did not ask for a comment on the phrase:

"Oderint dum metuant."

"A capital sentiment, Simpson," he would say with his gentlest smile,
as he mouthed out the words. But his pretensions were not idle, as was
shown by the fact that he could lose his temper without becoming
ridiculous. If a weaker man had called the giant Batson 'a
contemptible ass,' Batson would have laughed and the form would have
sniggered. But when Vickers flared up he commanded the silence of the
greatest.

Vickers had a gift of phrase and Martin learned much from him, partly
because he was so afraid that he always worked hard, and partly because
Vickers took a fancy to him and would give