no use denying that I was glad to see Mrs. Faulkner
again, and if any one had told me that such a thing was possible when I
left her at the lodge I should have denounced him with many words. I
could see that Fred had not been enjoying himself, and while Mrs.
Faulkner and Nina were discussing loudly what they should do next, he
told me that he had been asked a perfect fusillade of questions none of
which he could answer. "How old is that fig-tree in your garden?" he
asked thoughtlessly, and Mrs. Faulkner's attention was turned upon me.

"What fig-tree?" I asked.

Fred tittered audibly, and Mrs. Faulkner seemed to forget that only a
short time before she had discovered an immense improvement in me.

"Do you mean to say that you live close to that beautiful fig-tree and
don't even know of its existence?" she demanded.

"Oh yes, I know about it," I answered; "it has stuff put round to keep
it warm in the winter, but I have never asked how old it is. You see
the dons more or less monopolize our gardens, so you can't expect us to
know much about them."

"Notices are put up to say that certain parts of them are reserved for
the dons of the college, aren't they?" Foster said, and he laughed
again, but I said nothing. "I shall tell Nina the tale if you don't,"
he added.

"I should like to hear something amusing," Nina said, as if there was
not the slightest chance of her wish being gratified.

"It's not very funny," I began, for I had a feeling that Mrs. Faulkner
would not like this tale.

"Well, anything's better than nothing," Nina declared wisely, and so,
to pacify her, I continued.

"These notices annoyed some men, so they dug a hole and bought a large
sort of milk-pail arrangement to fit into it and a box of sardines.
Then we filled the pail with water and put in the sardines, and Jack
Ward put up a little notice, 'This fishing is reserved for the dons of
the college. Licences may be obtained at the lodge.' The dons should
not be so greedy about the garden," I added, because Mrs. Faulkner
looked very disgusted.

"Did you really make a large hole in that beautiful turf?" she asked at
once. "You began in the third person, but I expect you and this Mr.
Ward did it; you ought to have been rusticated, or whatever the word
is."

"We were never found out, and the dons didn't mind; they thought it not
a bad joke of its kind," I answered.

"Then their sense of humour must have become perverted," she replied.
"