kened elegant
athleticism and safely skirted the bounds of foppery, Mr. Chilvers
discharged the duty he was conscious of owing to a multitude of
kinsfolk, friends, admirers. You would have detected something clerical
in the young man's air. It became the son of a popular clergyman, and
gave promise of notable aptitude for the sacred career to which Bruno
Leathwaite, as was well understood, already had designed himself. In
matters sartorial he presented a high ideal to his fellow-students;
this seemly attention to externals, and the delicate glow of health
discernible through the golden down of his cheeks, testified the
compatibility of hard study and social observances. Bruno had been
heard to say that the one thing it behoved Whitelaw to keep carefully
in mind was the preservation of 'tone', a quality far less easy to
cultivate than mere academic excellence.

'How clever he must be!' purred Mrs. Warricombe. 'If he lives, he will
some day be an archbishop.'

Buckland was leaning back with his eyes closed, disgusted at the
spectacle. Nor did he move when Professor Wotherspoon's voice made the
next announcement.

'In Senior Greek, the first prize is taken by--Bruno Leathwaite
Chilvers.'

'Then I suppose Peak comes second,' muttered Buckland.

So it proved. Summoned to receive the inferior prize, Godwin Peak, his
countenance harsher than before, his eyes cast down, moved ungracefully
to the estrade. And during the next half-hour this twofold exhibition
was several times repeated. In Senior Latin, in Modern and Ancient
History, in English Language and Literature, in French, first sounded
the name of Chilvers, whilst to the second award was invariably
attached that of Peak. Mrs. Warricombe's delight expressed itself in
every permissible way: on each occasion she exclaimed, 'How clever he
is!' Sidwell cast frequent glances at her brother, in whom a shrewder
eye could have divined conflict of feelings--disgust at the
glorification of Chilvers and involuntary pleasure in the successive
defeats of his own conqueror in Philosophy. Buckland's was by no means
an ignoble face; venial malice did not ultimately prevail in him.

'It's Peak's own fault,' he declared at length, with vexation.
'Chilvers stuck to the subjects of his course. Peak has been taking up
half-a-dozen extras, and they've done for him. I shouldn't wonder if he
went in for the Poem and the Essay: I know he was thinking about both.'

Whether Godwin Peak had