s blue, and
Murray again seemed to be amused.

"I have got it," Fred said quietly, and he stepped away from me,
fearing that my delight might be painful to him.

There is an extraordinarily small choice of things to do when you are
very delighted; just talking seemed to be hopelessly futile, and even
shouting was not satisfactory. But I had to do something, so I opened
a bottle of port, which I knew both Fred and Murray disliked, and made
them drink some of it. After Murray had tasted his and congratulated
Fred again, he put his glass down by the large bowl which I had bought
on my first expedition to the shops of Oxford, and presently fears of
dyspepsia gripped him so furiously that he emptied the wine into the
bowl, when he thought I was not looking. It was '63 port given me by
my father, and if he had seen Murray getting rid of it in this way I am
sure that there would have been trouble; but I, not being oppressed by
a knowledge of vintages, just filled Murray's glass up again and kept
an eye on him to see what he would do with it. I might, however, have
spared myself the trouble, for he had no intention of pretending to
drink two glasses, though he told me afterwards that some curious
impulse had compelled him to get rid of one, and he had decided that it
would be safer in the bowl than elsewhere. In fact, he wished me to
believe that he had done this as a compliment to Foster, but I could
not follow his line of reasoning.

I sat and talked for a long time about the rottenness of the Cambridge
bowling--which, by the way, I had never seen--and the runs Fred was
sure to make in the 'Varsity match, until he tried very hard to stop me
saying anything more about cricket, and Murray set me going on another
subject when he remarked that it had not taken me long to read my essay.

"Edwardes has gone completely cracked," I stated. Fred had often heard
me express a similar opinion about masters at Cliborough, and was not
inclined to think seriously of Edwardes' condition, but Murray had
curiosity enough to ask me what had happened. "You saw the beginning
of my essay," I said to him, "and there was nothing in it which could
offend a baby in arms, was there?"

Murray said that as far as he knew I had been most modest, and he
added, quite unnecessarily, that the only criticism he had to make upon
it was that I had been asked to give Cicero's impression of Roman
society, and had preferred my own. I was not going to s