"

"I walked to Sampford with Foster, and we had a row there with two men,
not much of a row. I must go and see Ward." I jumped up, but the
chapel bell began to ring, and I had to postpone seeing him.

"I am all behind with my chapels and roll-calls," I said to Murray;
"this will be my twenty-first, and five weeks of the term have gone."

"I kept six chapels last week," Murray answered; "you will have to go
hard to keep nineteen in three weeks."

"I mean doing it and getting up very early in the morning. I am going
to reform," and I left him at the chapel door, for he, being a scholar,
sat in the seats behind all of us who were commoners or exhibitioners.

After chapel, at which the Regius Professor of Divinity preached and
told us that Sunday luncheon parties were very wrong, I seized Ward and
bore him off to his rooms, where we found Dennison sitting by the fire
with his legs stuck up on the mantelpiece. I wanted to see Ward alone,
but Dennison had been at Sampford, so he did not matter much, though
Ward with Dennison never seemed to be quite the same as he was without
him.

Dennison twisted round in his chair, and as soon as he saw me he began
to talk. "You ought to have been with us this afternoon," he said, "we
had a most lovely rag. Bunny Langham took us over to Sampford in his
cart, and I had a peashooter."

The loveliness of the rag was too much for him, and he had to stop his
account of it so that he might laugh. I looked at Ward, and although
he did not appear to be very amused, he showed no signs of knowing that
Foster and I had been at Sampford.

"After lunch," Dennison went on, "I discovered some people in an
arbour, the bill and coo business, and I fairly peppered them; I am no
end of a shot with a peashooter."

"You missed them about a dozen times," Ward put in.

"Those were sighting shots, you must get your range, and they were
about as far off as my shooter will carry; but I got them out of the
place at last, and another fellow, Oxford written all over him, walked
bang into them. I gave him one on the neck and then we bolted. It was
a pity we couldn't stop and see what happened."

"We ought to have stopped," Ward declared and disappeared into his
bedroom.

"I can tell you what happened," I said, and I lifted Dennison's legs
off the mantelpiece and stood between him and the fire. I had been
angry before Dennison described Foster as having Oxford written all
over him, but the chee