the way, trampled under foot and got rid of; that's my idea of
a degree."

Wilkinson merely smiled; but Harcourt saw at once that he was a
deeply-disappointed man. The barrister, however, was too much a man
of the world either to congratulate him or condole with him.

"There are fewer firsts this year than there have been for the
last nine years," said Gerard, thinking to soften the asperity of
Wilkinson's position.

"That may be because the examiners required more, or because the men
had less to give," said Madden, forgetting all about Wilkinson.

"Why, what noodles you are," said Bertram, "not to know that it's all
settled by chance at roulette the night before the lists come down!
If it's not, it ought to be. The average result would be just as
fair. Come, Harcourt, I know that you, with your Temple experiences,
won't drink Oxford wine; but your good nature will condescend to
see the children feeding. Wilkinson, sit opposite there and give
Twisleton some of that pie that he was talking of." And so they sat
down to their banquet; and Harcourt, in spite of the refinement which
London had doubtless given to his taste, seemed perfectly able to
appreciate the flavour of the University vintage.

"Gentlemen, silence for one moment," said Harcourt, when the graver
work of eating began to lull, and men torpidly peeled their pears,
and then cut them up into shapes instead of eating them. "It is
always said at all the breakfasts I go to--"

"This is not a breakfast," said Bertram, "it's a lunch."

"Well, all the lunches, then; and God bless you. It's always said at
these matutinal meals--which, by-the-by, would be the nicest things
in the world, only one doesn't know what on earth to do when they're
over."

"It's time to go to dinner then," said Twisleton.

"That may do for the '_dura ilia_' of a freshman, but now that you're
a B.A., you'll find that that power fails you greatly. But, for
heaven's sake, let me go on with my speech, or you'll not get away
either to dinner or to supper. It is commonly declared, I say,
that there should be no speaking at these delicious little morning
repasts."

"Do you call that a little repast?" said Madden, who was lying back
in his chair with a cigar in his mouth, of which he hardly had
strength enough left to puff out the smoke.

"I mean no offence to the feed, which, of its kind, has been only
too good. If I'm to be allowed to go on, I'll say, that this rule,
which is always l