-X'l E> RARY 
 
 OF THL 
 UNIVERSITY 
 Of ILLINOIS 
 
 v. I
 
 THE JUNIOR DEAN
 
 Crown 8vo., cloth extra, 3^. 6d. ; post 8vo., illustrated 
 boards, is. 
 
 A FELLOW OF TRINITY. 
 
 ALAN ST. AUBYN, 
 
 AUTHOR OF 'THE JUNIOR DEAN.' 
 
 ' To say that this book is fascinating would be but poor praise. It 
 is a drama of real life, in which every person, and his every speech 
 and action, is palpitating with intense and real life.' — Whitehall 
 Review. 
 
 ' Sure to find many readers. ... As a whole, so charming 
 that we are anxious to hear more from this new author.' — Scottish 
 Lead 'er. 
 
 'There is much that is commendable in "A Fellow's " story.' — 
 A thenceum. 
 
 ' It cannot be denied that the picture is drawn with spirit and 
 power. ' — Pali Mall Gazette. 
 
 ' A novel which deserves success. The account of undergraduate 
 life at Cambridge could hardly be read without profit.' — Record. 
 
 ' It has spirit, and moves ; its pictures of undergraduate life have 
 a touch of nature ; in some of the scenes and characters (notably in 
 the Little Mother's) there is genuine tenderness and pathetic 
 power.' —World. 
 
 London: CHATTO & WINDUS, Piccadilly.
 
 THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 £ ilODCl 
 
 By ALAN St. AUBYN 
 
 AUTHOR OF ' A FELLOW OF TRINITY 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES 
 VOL. I. 
 
 3Lonfron 
 CHATTO & WINDUS, PICCADILLY 
 
 l»oi
 
 If there were dreams to sell 
 Merry and sad to tell, 
 And the crier rang the bell. 
 What would you buy ?'
 
 W3 
 
 V, 1 
 
 CONTENTS OF VOL. I 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 I. WOOED AND WON - - - - 1 
 
 II. MOLLY PACKS HEB BAG - - - 25 
 
 III. A NEWNHAM GIRL - - - - 48 
 
 IV. A COLLEGE TEA - - - - 68 
 V. ON THE CAM - - 86 
 
 VI. THE DON JUAN OF ST. STEPHEN'S - - 103 
 
 VII. THE DERBY DAY - - - - 125 
 
 VIII. NEMESIS - - - - 149 
 
 ix. 'a friend' ----- 166 
 
 X. THE HOUSE IN THE NEWMARKET ROAD - 185 
 
 XL ON THE FRESHERS - 209 
 
 XII. MOLLY TAKES HER LITTLE-GO - - 238 

 
 THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 WOOED' AND WON. 
 
 ' Heart, are you great enough 
 For a love that never tires V 
 
 ' Have you heard the latest ?' 
 
 1 No — o — o : except that Queen Anne is 
 really dead.' 
 
 ' A trifle later than that. Keith Fellowes, 
 our Dunior Jean — I beg his pardon, our 
 Junior Dean — is going to marry Molly Gray/ 
 
 • Molly Gray ! Nonsense, old man ; you're 
 joking ! She's about the j oiliest girl in Cam- 
 bridge; and he — well, he isn't a bad Dunior 
 
 vol. i. 1
 
 2 THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 Jean, but he's the greatest prig in the 'Varsity 
 — and a cripple !' 
 
 ' True, all the same. Case of natural 
 repulsion — attraction of opposites.' 
 
 ' I'm awfully sorry. She might have 
 married anybody in Cambridge. She might 
 have married me ! I — I was thinking of 
 asking her.' 
 
 ' ISTo — really ? So were a dozen other 
 fellows. She refused Bumpus last term, so 
 she wouldn't have been likely to accept you.' 
 
 1 1 am not Mr. Bumpus.' 
 
 The speaker was an undergraduate in his 
 third year, and the conversation took place 
 in a college room. 
 
 4 1 say, any tea going ?' 
 
 A knock had prefaced the inquiry, and a 
 man followed the knock before the owner of 
 the rooms, who had just remarked with great 
 dignity that he wasn't Mr. Bumpus, could 
 shout, l Come in !'
 
 WOOED AND WON 3 
 
 The new-comer dropped limply into a chair, 
 a very low chair, and extending his legs along 
 the hearthrug, and thrusting his hands deep 
 into his pockets, he proceeded to relieve his 
 feelings. 
 
 1 My affections are blighted. I — I am about 
 to commit suicide.' 
 
 ' Suppose you take a cup of tea first, old 
 man ; it'll give you nerve.' 
 
 A cup of tea was handed to the sufferer, 
 and he relieved his feelings with some sugar, 
 and choked down his emotion with some 
 cake. 
 
 It was a particularly good cake, and it took 
 a good deal of it to relieve the feelings that 
 were agitating his breast. 
 
 When the last slice had disappeared he 
 sighed deeply. 
 
 * Feeling better ?' his host inquired sympa- 
 thetically, handing him a tin of biscuits. 
 
 ' For a blighted being, I am better, thanks :. 
 
 1—2
 
 4 THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 and I will trouble you for some more tea — 
 thanks — and the sugar.' 
 
 Having carefully searched through the tin 
 for his favourite biscuit, which was naturally 
 at the bottom, he proceeded to explain the 
 cause of his despondency. 
 
 ' It's all over the 'Varsity,' he said gloomily. 
 
 ' What's all over the 'Varsity V inquired 
 the others in a chorus. 
 
 ' That— that I'm jilted ! Molly Gray has 
 thrown me over for Fellowes.' 
 
 ' Bosh ! you never had a chance with her.' 
 
 < Oh ! hadn't I ?' 
 
 The speaker threw his head back and smiled 
 pensively up at the ceiling. His face was seen 
 to advantage in that position. A decidedly 
 interesting face — pale, and clean-shaven, with 
 black hair, worn unusually long for a Cam- 
 bridge undergraduate, and falling on one side 
 low over his forehead. He ought to have been 
 a poet or a scholar, at least, with that pensive
 
 WOOED AND WON 5 
 
 expression ; but he didn't happen to be either. 
 He had been up two years before lie passed 
 his Little-go, and he had never written a line 
 of poetry in his life. 
 
 ' You hadn't half my chance,' said the first 
 speaker. ' She danced twice with me at the 
 Boat Ball ; and I used to meet her every day 
 last term at tennis : and you should see how 
 she smiles at me when we happen to run 
 across each other in the street.' 
 
 ' Bosh !' interrupted another man, who was 
 cutting up the last cake — a plum -cake with 
 almonds on the top ; ' she smiles at every 
 fellow the same. I got her an ice the other 
 nio-ht at a dance, and you should have seen 
 how she smiled then ! By Jove ! it nearly 
 melted the ice.' 
 
 ' Hano- it ! I won't stand by and hear her 
 run down. I think Fellowes is an awfully 
 lucky fellow. There are a good many men 
 who would like to change places with him,'
 
 6 THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 said the undergraduate who had previously 
 remarked that he was not Mr. Bumpus. 
 
 1 1 don't think he will be very happy/ said 
 another man, nicely balancing his spoon on 
 the edge of his cup ; ' now, if she were to 
 marry Brackenbury, over there, the case would 
 be different ;' and he nodded over to the man 
 in the chair, and disturbed the balance of the 
 teaspoon, which tumbled down upon the 
 floor. 
 
 ' Marry Brackenbury !' said a man who had 
 just dropped in — men are always dropping in 
 at Cambridge — i why, half the girls in Cam- 
 bridge would commit suicide if Brackenbury 
 were to marry.' 
 
 ' No ; really ?' said the pensive under- 
 graduate in the low chair ; but he didn't 
 smile. 4 But I don't think, nevertheless, that I 
 would change places with the Dunior Jean — 
 yes, two lumps of sugar, if you please, and a 
 slice of that cake with the plums in — I
 
 WOOED AND WOX 7 
 
 couldn't stand two chapels a day for the 
 jolliest girl in the world.' 
 
 There was a general laugh, and in the middle 
 of it the chapel bell began to ring, and the 
 men went off to their rooms for their caps and 
 gowns, and presently were seen flying across 
 the quad just as the bell stopped. 
 
 The benches in the dusky chap>el were 
 scantily filled ; the men were whispering 
 audibly ; the shadows of the chill autumn 
 evening were gathering in the roof, and in 
 the chancel, and beneath the organ loft, where 
 the Master of St. Stephen's sat alone in great 
 dignity. The candles at long intervals only 
 served to increase the gloom. Whatever 
 light there was in the chapel fell upon the face 
 of the Junior Dean, who was reading the 
 prayers. The light of the two candles at the 
 reading-desk fell full upon it, and outlined 
 it sharply against the dark oak of the stalls 
 behind.
 
 8 THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 A good face — clean-shaven and clear-cut, 
 with a straight nose and firm chin, and thin 
 — very thin — lips, rather tightly compressed. 
 It was not a strong mouth, but it took pains 
 to conceal its weakness. It goes without 
 saying that it was an intellectual face. It 
 was the face of a Senior Theologian. 
 
 The voice was like the face : full, noble, 
 and grave. There was the same suggestion 
 of power and tenderness in the voice as in 
 the face, and the same latent weakness. 
 
 He read the service slowly and impressively, 
 and the men ceased to whisper, and though 
 he took five minutes longer over it than the 
 Dean, there was no shuffling and no signs of 
 impatience in the seats below. 
 
 When the service was ended, the Junior 
 Dean followed the choir out of the college 
 chapel. He walked slowly and painfully, 
 with a very evident limp. He didn't take 
 any notice of anybody in coming out of the
 
 WOOED AND WON 9 
 
 chapel, and he crossed the dark quadrangle 
 to his rooms with an absent, preoccupied 
 manner. He didn't even notice that it was 
 raining and that he was getting wet through. 
 They were gloomy college rooms, panelled 
 with dark old oak ; the furniture was old and 
 shabby, and there was not a touch of bright- 
 ness anywhere to relieve the scholarly gloom. 
 
 There was a wretched fire spluttering in 
 the grate, and a shaded reading-lamp on the 
 table, that only seemed to deepen the gloom. 
 On the small bright circle where the light 
 of the lamp fell, a letter was lying — a little 
 dainty note addressed in a woman's hand. 
 
 He took it up eagerly, and opened it with 
 trembling fingers. The weak lips were 
 parted now, and the grave eyes were smiling, 
 and the hard lines were all softened and 
 smoothed out of his face in a moment. 
 
 He read it eagerly twice over, and then — 
 he kissed it ; there was nobody, not even a
 
 io THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 bed-maker, near ; and then he looked up to the 
 ceiling with that light shining in his eyes, 
 and — and — and then, I'm afraid, he thanked 
 God for it. 
 
 The Junior Dean was in the habit of thank- 
 ing God for very commonplace things. 
 There was nothing in the letter to make 
 such a fuss about. 
 
 It wasn't at all nicely written. The fs 
 were not crossed, and there was not a single 
 i dotted, and it was an untidy letter and 
 ought to have been destroyed and re-written. 
 There were big blots upon it, which the 
 foolish fellow kissed, and which brought a 
 mist before his eyes, and made all the 
 irregular lines run together. 
 
 They were not ink-blots, they were only 
 tears— a woman's tears. 
 
 No sensible woman would have found 
 anything to cry about in such a letter. No 
 sensible woman would have written it.
 
 WOOED AND WON n 
 
 1 Darling/ it began, with a big untidy 
 scrawl, and the tail of the <j meandering into 
 the next line — ' my own — own darling' (more 
 flourishes), ' I am the happiest girl — the 
 luckiest girl — in the world. I can't believe 
 it is true. I have to pinch myself sometimes 
 to be sure I'm not dreaming. Did you — did 
 you tell me, Keith, that you loved me? — Me? 
 That you will never, never love any woman 
 in the world but me? 
 
 1 I can't believe it : I won't believe it, 
 unless vou tell me again and again. Oh, 
 what have I done to deserve such happiness ! 
 Oh, Keith, you shall never, never have occa- 
 sion to doubt me. I am yours always — ever, 
 in life, in death. 
 
 < Molly.' 
 (A big blob on the last letter had nearly 
 w ashed it away.) 
 
 The Junior Dean of St. Stephen's forgot
 
 12 THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 all about his Hall dinner ; the bell had been 
 going for live minutes, and the men were 
 flying down the stairs outside. He sat down 
 to his writing-table with a swelling heart, 
 and big tears rising in his eyes — he didn't 
 let them fall on the paper — and answered this 
 incoherent letter. 
 
 Never mind what he said ; it has been said 
 a thousand times before : it was nothing 
 original. It took him a long time to write 
 it, and when he had written it he went over 
 to Hall, and limped up to the Fellows' 
 table, which was quite deserted, and took 
 his seat amid the debris of the feast. The 
 soup was all gone, and the meat was cold, 
 and there was not a scrap of his favourite 
 pudding left ; but if it had been a feast of the 
 gods it could not have been sweeter. 
 
 The long Latin grace had been said long- 
 ago ; but he murmured over his solitary plate 
 (which was quite cold, and the gravy was
 
 WOOED AXD WON 13 
 
 cooling already round the edges) an audible 
 1 Benediete, Benedict' /' 
 
 As lie sat there sipping his aqua pumpa 
 as if it were the divinest nectar, the Hall 
 slowly cleared, and he was left sitting alone 
 at the deserted table with the portraits of the 
 old founders and benefactors of the college in 
 their robes looking solemnly down upon him. 
 
 He found himself, as he looked round at 
 the old dead and gone Fellows on the wall, 
 who were watching him with a strange pity 
 in their painted eyes, wondering whether into 
 their dull lives such a joy had ever shone as 
 was shining in his now. 
 
 It was shining in his eyes, too. He could 
 not keep it out of his eyes. It shone in them 
 when he read the prayers in chapel, in the 
 UTav dawn of the dull November mornino- • 
 it shone undimmed through all the dull 
 college lecture ; it kept on shining during 
 that long spell on the river in the gray, mistv
 
 14 THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 afternoon, when he paddled down in a canoe 
 to Ely and back, and came home across 
 Midsummer Common in a fog so thick that 
 he stumbled over the grazing cattle in his 
 path. 
 
 It was still shining — it was glowing in his 
 eyes — when an hour or two later he entered 
 Mrs. Gray's drawing-room and made his way 
 over between the little tables and the chairs 
 to the piano, where her niece, Mary, was 
 playing. 
 
 He couldn't shake hands with her very 
 well, but he flushed up to the roots of his 
 hair and greeted her with that love-light in 
 his eyes across the piano. She looked up 
 and smiled; she knew his step — alas ! his 
 limp — among a thousand, and the foolish 
 fellow flushed more deeply than ever. 
 
 Mary Gray's smile was the readiest and most 
 delightful smile in Cambridge, and her eyes 
 were the brightest, and her complexion the
 
 WOOED AND WON 15 
 
 clearest. A rosy, sanguine complexion, a 
 small oval face, a sensitive little nose (her 
 detractors said it was decidedly retrousse), and 
 full red lips that disclosed, whenever they 
 parted in a smile, which they did very often, 
 a flash of pearly-white teeth. 
 
 The Junior Dean of St. Stephen's, who was 
 the accepted lover of Mary Gray, had time to 
 note all these details as he stood watching her 
 over the piano, if he did not know them 
 already by heart. He had never quite made 
 out the colour of her eyes — they were April 
 eyes, ever varying, gray one day and blue 
 another — but he could draw very good por- 
 traits in profile from memory, as his blotting- 
 paper testified. 
 
 AVhen the music was over she came and sat 
 down on a couch by the fire. There was no 
 room for the Junior Dean beside her ; a plump 
 female in a stiff silk took up the rest of the 
 couch, and he hadn't the courage to sit upon
 
 1 6 THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 her gown. He dragged over a low chair — a 
 ridiculously low chair — and got into it with 
 some difficulty — he was rather stiff from that 
 long pull — and stretched his legs out across 
 the hearthrug — there was no help for it — 
 exhibiting his deformity in the most naked, 
 not to say defiant, way. 
 
 The accepted lover of the prettiest girl in 
 Cambridge hadn't got much to say as he sat 
 there in the shaded lamplight beside her. He 
 was thinking of her letter — of her dear little 
 letter. And she ? Well, perhaps she was 
 thinking of his answer. 
 
 She certainly wasn't thinking of his lame- 
 ness, though he stuck it out in that unfeeling 
 way just before her eyes ; but everybody else 
 in the room was, and pitying her for it. 
 
 i What a shocking thing that that charming 
 girl should throw her self away upon a cripple !' 
 
 ' What can Mr. Gray be thinking of to let 
 his niece make such a match ?'
 
 WOOED AND WOX 17 
 
 ' Poor Mary ! I'm so sorry for her !' 
 
 These and other sympathetic and delicate 
 remarks were whispered freely round the 
 room while the lovers sat happy and silent, 
 and entirely oblivious to the compassion they 
 were exciting. 
 
 It was awfully nice of everybody to take 
 such interest in them, but their sympathy was 
 quite thrown away. 
 
 1 Thank you for that dear letter, darling/ 
 he said presently, looking up at her with that 
 love- light shining in his eyes. 
 
 ' Oh, Keith, it was very foolish of me to 
 write it ! I couldn't believe it was real — I 
 can't believe it now V 
 
 1 Did you get my letter ?' 
 
 1 Get it ? Yes, oh yes !' 
 
 She didn't tell him that she had read it fifty 
 times already, and that at the present moment 
 she had got it in her bosom, under her ribbons 
 and her laces. 
 
 vol. 1. 2
 
 1 8 THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 And then there was a blissful silence, and 
 the Junior Dean looked up from the low chair 
 into the eyes of the woman he loved. They 
 were the brightest eyes in Cambridge, but 
 they were very soft and tender now. She was 
 picking a flower to pieces — a rosebud from her 
 bosom — and she dropped it on her lap. 
 
 He picked it up and detained it ; and when 
 somebody bore her off to the piano he put 
 it in his pocket, and blushed like a peony 
 when the fat woman on the couch, whose 
 existence he had forgotten, detected him in 
 the act. 
 
 He only got five minutes' talk with Mary 
 Gray during the rest of the evening. 
 
 1 Auntie is so good, Keith,' she said, bend- 
 ing over him. (He couldn't go limping about 
 the drawing-room with that lame foot of his, 
 so he sat still in that ridiculous low chair, 
 making a spectacle of his infirmity.) 
 Auntie is so good ; she is going to take me
 
 WOOED AXD WOX 19 
 
 to St. Stephen's Chapel on Sunday morning, 
 and I shall hear you read the prayers.' 
 
 * I shall be sure to break down,' he said, 
 meeting the happy confidence in her eyes with 
 that eao-er, devouring s;aze of his. 'I should 
 be thinking of you all the time ; I should be 
 forgetting my Master.' 
 
 He was true to his word — he did break 
 down. He did worse : he made himself 
 ridiculous in the eyes of his college. 
 
 He looked across the chapel, over the heads 
 of the undergraduates in the seats below, to 
 the beatific vision in the opposite stalls — and 
 then he plunged into the service, and read it 
 from beginning to end without daring to look 
 up again, amid the wonder and consternation 
 of all present. 
 
 He read the Collects for Evening Prayers at 
 tier en clock in the morning. 
 
 The men tittered, and the Dons looked 
 grave ; and Mrs. Gray, who was a tutor's 
 
 2—2
 
 20 THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 wife, and had to irphold the dignity of the 
 University, looked flustered and uncomfort- 
 able, and Molly blushed delightfully. At 
 least the appreciative undergraduates said so ; 
 and they ought to have known, for they were 
 all looking at her. 
 
 Mrs. Gray didn't bring her niece to the 
 college chapel again. 
 
 The Junior Dean was dreadfully ashamed 
 of himself. He hung his head, and limped 
 sadly through the courts. He didn't mind 
 what the men said. He had dishonoured his 
 Master. He had been kneeling before Him in 
 the presence of that congregation, addressing 
 Him with his lips, and his heart had been all 
 the time with the woman he loved in the 
 stall opposite. He hadn't been thinking of a 
 word he was saying ; he had been thinking- 
 only of that clay idol opposite. 
 
 He took himself severely to task when he 
 got back to his rooms. He had been guilty,
 
 WOOED AXD WON i\ 
 
 he told himself, of the old, old sin of idolatry. 
 He had fallen down and worshipped this idol 
 of clay that he had set up, and he had dis- 
 honoured his Master. 
 
 All cripples are sensitive, perhaps because 
 of their infirmity ; and Keith Fellowes was 
 more sensitive than most cripples, and felt 
 things a thousand times keener than other 
 men. He didn't know, till this incident 
 revealed it to him, how this earthly passion 
 had absorbed his very soul. 
 
 He went down on his knees when lie came 
 out of chapel, and thanked God that his eyes 
 were opened in time. 
 
 And then a change came in his life ; that 
 change that comes sooner or later in the lives 
 of all men who are called for a great work. 
 
 He didn't look in Mary Gray's eyes any 
 
 J ml ml «/ 
 
 more — perhaps he was afraid to. 
 
 He was kinder than ever, and very con- 
 siderate of her feelings ; but he never looked
 
 22 THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 into her sweet eyes again after that morn- 
 ing's chapel. 
 
 Delilah had cut off a few locks, but she had 
 not shorn him completely of his manly 
 strength. He never got within reach of her 
 scissors after that memorable day. 
 
 Mary Gray was piqued, surprised, wounded, 
 at this sudden change in her lover. There 
 w^ere no more confidences ; no more delightful 
 confessions \ no more foolish letters. 
 
 She couldn't understand this change in 
 him ; she chafed under it, and nearly wept her 
 pretty eyes out over it. She didn't like being 
 dethroned. She didn't like being preached to 
 — for it had come to that. 
 
 The Junior Dean, among other things, had 
 taken it into his head that Mary wasn't con- 
 verted ; and he began at once the task of her 
 conversion. He was always preaching to her 
 now when he ought to have been making 
 love. He was always asking her if she loved
 
 WOOED AND WON 23 
 
 his Master, when she would rather — far rather 
 — he had asked her if she loved him. 
 
 She preferred beginning with the servant, 
 and by-and-by she would love his Lord. She 
 couldn't go on loving a good man without 
 loving what he loved. 
 
 The Junior Dean had made a great mistake. 
 He had never had anything to do with women 
 before. He knew nothing about them, The 
 best of women, whom in his ignorance he 
 regarded as the type of all other women, was 
 sleeping under a little green mound that he 
 visited once every year, and he believed all 
 women pure and good for her sake. 
 
 She had taught him one thing about 
 women — that they were angels — and he 
 wanted light-hearted Mary Gray to be an 
 angel to begin with. 
 
 Perhaps the best of women was not always 
 an angel. God only knew the probationary 
 discipline she had passed through. The
 
 24 THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 Junior Dean never did. Tt was not her habit 
 to complain. He only remembered the 
 whitened hair, and the dear smile, and that 
 faint quiver about the patient lips. 
 
 She had passed through the furnace, and 
 been tried as silver is tried, and all the human 
 dross had been purged away ; and he was 
 expecting his betrothed — the jolliest girl in 
 Cambridge — to be exactly like her. 
 
 The Junior Dean, it is quite certain, knew 
 nothing whatever about women.
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 MOLLY PACKS HER BAG. 
 
 ' Soon the modern undergraduate, with a feather in her hat, 
 Shall parade the streets of Cambridge, followed by her 
 faithful cat.' 
 
 Mary Gray was a Newnham girl in embryo. 
 That is to say, she was reading hard for the 
 honour of bein«' admitted a student at the 
 women's college, whose most successful can- 
 didate occupies a unique place in the class 
 lists of the University — 
 
 ' Above Senior AVrangier !' 
 
 It ought not to require hard reading for a 
 girl to be admitted a student at a women's 
 college, but Mary Gray's education had been
 
 26 THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 neglected. That is to say, she had not taken 
 honours in any examination. 
 
 She had passed the Cambridge Local Ex- 
 amination as well as most girls ; she had taken 
 several of the groups, and she had failed in all 
 but one, and she hated them accordingly. 
 Her sister Adela, on the contrary, who was 
 brought up at the same school, and with pre- 
 cisely the same advantages, took the same 
 groups and passed them with distinction — 
 took honours in all. Adela Gray was two 
 years older than Mary, and this was her 
 second year at Newnham. 
 
 Mary Gray was not exactly fired by her 
 sister's success, neither had she any par- 
 ticular love for the Muses ; but she was tired 
 of yawning away her life at a quiet country 
 Rectory. 
 
 She yearned for the society of her kind — 
 mankind. 
 
 There was no society whatever at Silverton
 
 MOLLY PACKS HER BAG 27 
 
 — at least, not the sort of Society one spells 
 with a capital S. 
 
 There was an agricultural population, and 
 plenty of poor people to visit ; and there was 
 lawn-tennis occasionally at a neighbouring 
 county house, where there were no sons and 
 seven daughters. 
 
 There was an elder sister at the Rectory, 
 who had kept house for her father since she 
 was a mere child, for Mr. Gray was a widower. 
 
 When Adela, who had done so brilliantly, 
 came back term after term from Newnham, 
 full of Cambridge news and Cambridge en- 
 thusiasms, the heart of the younger sister 
 burnt within her, and she longed to be in the 
 fray. She hungered for lectures and debates, 
 and examinations, and 'Varsity sermons, and 
 services in college chapels. 
 
 She no longer took any interest in the 
 schools, or the clubs, or the ailments of the 
 old women of the parish. She left off visit-
 
 28 THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 ing and she began to learn Greek. She made 
 up her mind to go to Newnham. 
 
 Adela didn't give her the least encourage- 
 ment. She assured her in the most sisterly 
 way that she hadn't a chance. 
 
 If it hadn't been for her brother Jack — she 
 had only this one brother, who was an under- 
 graduate at Cambridge ; he was a scholar of 
 St. Stephen's — this project would have fallen 
 through. 
 
 Molly was his favourite sister. She always 
 got him out of scrapes when the paternal 
 an^er was roused against him. It was the 
 beginning of the lom> vacation, and Jack had 
 nothing to do but to ' hang around,' so he be- 
 guiled the tedium of that dreary time by 
 teaching Molly Greek. 
 
 Jack won the Rector over with his picture 
 of the brilliant career that awaited Molly 
 at Cambridge. Adela was sure of a place 
 in the Tripos — in the First Class — but
 
 MOLLY PACKS HER BAG 29 
 
 Molly, with her ability, might be Senior 
 Classic. 
 
 The Rector smiled and shook his head : he 
 was ready to believe anything good of his 
 children ; and he was in an unusually good 
 humour this vacation, for Jack had done 
 exceptionally well in his college Mays. 
 
 ' My son Jack/ he went round telling his 
 friends, ( will be a Fellow of his college some 
 day. He has done splendidly in his college 
 exams. He has won a foundation scholar- 
 ship.' 
 
 Xo wonder he was not able to refuse Jack 
 anything ! 
 
 So Molly Gray went back to Cambridge 
 with her sister in the October term. 
 
 Mr. Gray had a brother who was a tutor at 
 Clare. He was a married Fellow, and lived 
 in a delightful house not too far from the col- 
 lege ; and he had no children. 
 
 Mrs. Gray offered to take charge of Molly
 
 3 o THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 while she pursued her studies, and Mr. Gray 
 offered to help her in her classics. 
 
 She had already pursued her studies two 
 terms, and she had attended the lectures and 
 debates, and 'Varsity sermons and services in 
 college chapels that her soul hungered for ; she 
 had seen Society, spelt with a big S — she had 
 made more conquests than she could count : 
 she had refused a Fellow and Tutor of St. Mar- 
 garet's, and she had accepted a Junior Dean. 
 
 She had managed to crowd a good deal into 
 two terms, to say nothing of college concerts, 
 dances, lawn-tennis, and, most of all, she had 
 passed the entrance examination at Newnham. 
 
 She ought to have gone back to Silverton 
 when the term was over proud and happy. 
 There was everything in the world to make 
 her happy ; there was no ingredient wanting 
 in her cup to make it pleasant. It was full to 
 the brim. 
 
 She ought to have been happy — there was
 
 MOLLY PACKS HER BAG 31 
 
 no excuse for her not being happy — but she 
 went back to Silverton declaring that she was 
 the most miserable girl in the world. 
 
 She didn't tell Adela — who sat opposite to 
 her all the way, buried in a book she was get- 
 ting up for the Tripos — that she was unhappy. 
 She would not have admitted it to Adela, who 
 was the most unsympathetic of sisters, and 
 never gave her anything but stale buns when 
 she went to tea with her at Newnham. 
 
 Molly didn't exactly throw herself into the 
 arms of her sister Madge, otherwise Margaret 
 Gray, when she reached Silverton. 
 
 She kissed her warmly, so did Adela — at 
 least, lukewarmly. Madge didn't attempt to 
 take off A del a' s things, but she took off 
 Molly's hat, and she got her out of her jacket, 
 and she smoothed back her untidy hair, and 
 kissed her in the middle of her forehead. 
 
 ; Is he very nice, dear ?' she asked, looking 
 straight into the girl's bright eyes.
 
 32 THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 Molly Gray ought to have flushed scarlet, 
 and her eyes ought to have grown brighter, or 
 softer, or tenderer; but they did nothing of 
 the kind. She choked down a little sigh, and 
 she answered sweetly, but without any per- 
 ceptibly heightened colour, ' Yes, dear, very 
 nice !' and then she began to talk about her 
 examination, and how proud she was to get 
 into Newnham, and how nearly she had 
 broken down, and what horrible papers they 
 were. 
 
 The girls were wonderfully alike. You 
 noticed it more when you saw them together. 
 Separately they were charming girls, and one, 
 at least, of them was lovely. But together 
 the case was different. It is never well to see 
 several things of one pattern. What is lovely 
 in one is wearisome and common-place when 
 repeated two or three times over. 
 
 A beauty ought never to have any sisters. 
 The three sisters were so nearly, so almost
 
 MOLLY PACKS HER BAG 53 
 
 exactly alike, that it was impossible not to 
 institute comparisons. Yet one was quite 
 lovely, and the other was unmistakably plain. 
 Madge was plain and dowdy-looking, and not 
 the least remarkable ; but she bore the strongest 
 possible resemblance to her lovely sister. 
 
 Adela was like both, and she had just 
 escaped being a beauty. Her eyes were quite 
 as bright as Molly's, and a trifle sharper, but 
 her face was harder and clearer altogether — an 
 earlier impression from the same mould. 
 Madge's face was earlier still, but it was more 
 rugged ; there was not a bit of softness in it. 
 The latest impression had been blurred and 
 softened, and all the hard lines had been 
 smoothed out, but the likeness remained. By- 
 and-by, when they got old women, they would 
 be all exactly alike ; it w r as impossible even 
 now to avoid calculating what changes the 
 3'ears would make in them. 
 
 The Hector received his daughters without 
 vol. 1. 3
 
 34 THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 any particular warmth. He was not very 
 glad to see them back so soon. Every time 
 they went backwards and forwards between 
 Silverton and Cambridge it cost him fifty 
 shillings per head, third-class fares. The 
 girls always travelled third-class. Hence he 
 was not particularly joyful when the vacations 
 came round. If it had been Jack, it would 
 have been different ; but for girls to cost so 
 much money running about the country was 
 a different matter. 
 
 Jack did not return to the parental roof 
 for the short vacation, so the girls took the 
 long, troublesome journey alone. 
 
 The Rector was a little put out at his son's 
 absence ; he had never stayed away before. 
 He had always brought his sister back from 
 Newnham. He had been her escort up and 
 down every term until now, and now, there 
 being two of them, he had pleaded they didn't 
 want his escort, and he had stayed behind.
 
 MOLL 1 ' PA CA'S HER BA G 3 5 
 
 Clearly it was Molly's fault. If she hadn't 
 gone to Cambridge, Jack would have come 
 down with Adela in the usual way. 
 
 The Rector's reception of his daughters was 
 therefore colder than it would have been if 
 Jack had come back with them. 
 
 * You have not congratulated Molly upon 
 her engagement, papa,' Madge ventured to 
 remind him when they were sitting round the 
 fire after tea, and Molly was telling him how 
 very dreadful the examination papers were. 
 
 ' I thought she we at up to Cambridge to 
 work, to become a classical scholar, to enter 
 ;is a student at a woman's college. It appears 
 that she has changed her mind, and that the 
 money I have spent upon her has been wasted. 
 I do not think that is a matter for congratu- 
 lation.' 
 
 The Rector was not in an amiable mood, 
 and he hadn't forgiven Molly for standing 
 in the way of Jack's return. 
 
 3—2
 
 3 6 THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 ' Not wasted, papa ; oh no, not wasted. 
 Think of the examination I have passed. 
 Think of the number of Greek verbs I have 
 stored up for future use, to say nothing of the 
 mathematics.' 
 
 ' For future use ? What use do you 
 propose to make of them in the future ?' 
 
 ' What use ? Oh, papa, what should I do 
 without them ? They wouldn't admit me 
 within the gates of Newnham without a 
 sack full on my back, or in a portmanteau 
 neatly strapped.' 
 
 ' Molly !' interrupted Adela severely, ' how 
 many times must I remind you that the girls at 
 Newnham are, most distinctly, not frivolous ?' 
 
 ' How about Miss Godolphin ?' said Molly 
 pertly. ' She's about the cheerfullest old maid 
 I know.' 
 
 4 Miss Godolphin may be cheerful, but she 
 isn't frivolous,' returned the elder sister with 
 great dignity.
 
 MOLLY PACKS HER BAG 37 
 
 1 There is no occasion for any disagree- 
 ment/ said the Rector grimly, looking at the 
 combatants over the top of his spectacles. 
 ' You will not require to carry your sack of 
 Greek verbs within the gates of Newnham. 
 There is nothing now to call you back to 
 Cambridge.' 
 
 1 Oh, papa !' 
 
 The colour went quite out of Molly Gray's 
 face, and her lips trembled. It was too awful 
 a possibility to contemplate. 
 
 Not go back to Cambridge ! 
 
 'This engagement of yours alters every- 
 thing ' said the Rector, looking at her over 
 the top of his glasses with his keen bright 
 eyes, of which hers were the very counterpart, 
 only that they did not look out, like his, from 
 beneath shaggy eyebrows of quite abnormal 
 length, and were not nearly so far back; they 
 were young and bright, and his were old and 
 bright, and that made all the difference.
 
 38 THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 6 This engagement of yours alters everything. 
 You will not now have to go out in the world 
 and earn your living as a teacher. A 
 University education is no longer necessary 
 
 to vou.' 
 
 %/ 
 
 ' But, papa, suppose — suppose — I do not 
 marry Mr. Fellowes ? Suppose anything 
 should happen ?' Her voice trembled, very 
 nearly broke, as she made the awful sug- 
 gestion. 
 
 * Not marry Mr. Fellowes ?' repeated the 
 Rector, bringing his shaggy eyebrows very 
 close together and looking quite terrible ; 
 ' not marry the man you have engaged to 
 marry, that your uncle and I have promised 
 that you shall marry ? No playing fast and 
 loose with men in this family, Mary. You 
 have given your word, and you will marry 
 the man you have promised to marry.' 
 
 And this was all the congratulation that 
 poor Molly Gray got upon her engagement.
 
 MOLLY PACKS HER BAG 39 
 
 Nobody spoke about it after that miserable 
 first night, and she went about the house 
 feeling like a culprit. 
 
 Marine asked her one day what the Junior 
 Dean was like ; she had heard he was lame — 
 was a cripple — everybody had heard that : but 
 Molly had no likeness of him to show her. 
 She had no likeness of her lover, like most 
 girls ; no photograph in a dainty locket to 
 hang on a chain round her neck, to lie on her 
 bosom and rise and fall with every beat of her 
 heart ; no carefully locked album with a 
 whole series of photographs of the Junior 
 Dean in a variety of costumes : in his cap 
 and gown, in his surplice and hood, in a 
 morning coat, in flannels, in shorts, in his 
 college blazer, in an evening coat with a nice 
 white tie. 
 
 She had none of these. She had no pre- 
 sentment of him whatever. She only knew 
 how altogether noble and handsome and
 
 4 o THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 manly lie was, how superior to even' other 
 male creature in the world; and here was 
 everybody about Silverton, including those 
 seven unengaged girls at the great house, all 
 pitying her, and speaking of her as if she 
 were going to marry a man who wheeled 
 himself about on a go-cart, or was led about 
 like a blind man with a dog. Oh, it was 
 positively humiliating ! 
 
 And there was her sister Adela, who knew 
 all his perfections — that is, as far as one sister 
 can appreciate the perfections of another 
 sister's lover — keeping an obstinate silence. 
 She didn't even exj^lain that he wasn't very 
 lame. She didn't say what Molly was much 
 too proud and hurt to say, when her dearest 
 friends spoke in that absurd sympathetic way 
 about her sister's engagement, that he could 
 walk like other men, with a little, just per- 
 ceptible, lameness. She held her tongue, and 
 let people believe, as the report grew day by
 
 MOLL Y PA CKS HER BA G 4 1 
 
 day — and he was a little lamer after every 
 tea-party — that he went about on crutches ; 
 Avalked with two sticks; and, lastly, had 
 suffered amputation of both legs. 
 
 Oh, it was base of Adela ! 
 
 And all this time, while Adela was keeping 
 that cruel silence, Molly was fretting her eyes 
 out. Xot because all the girls who hadn't 
 any lovers of their own were pitying her 
 because she happened to have one — a lame 
 one was surely better than no lover at all — 
 but because her father had set his face against 
 her returning to Cambridge. 
 
 ' It would be a great deal of money wasted,' 
 he said ; ' it would be quite as expensive as 
 sending another boy to the University. 
 There would be the entrance fee, to begin 
 with, and the fee for each part of the si Pre- 
 vious," at which she would most certainly 
 fail/ 
 
 He knew exactly what it would cost.
 
 42 THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 having paid it all before for Adela ; but she 
 had come out of eveiy examination with 
 honours, while that frivolous Molly, with 
 her mind full of the man she was engaged 
 to marry, would be certain to fail in all, and the 
 fees would have to be paid over and over again. 
 
 If she had been going to get her living it 
 would have been different, but for a girl who 
 would be married shortly it was quite throw- 
 ing away money. 
 
 The Rector was inexorable, and the situa- 
 tion was quite dreadful to contemplate. 
 Perhaps the most painful part was to see 
 Adela (who maintained the most obstinate 
 silence) getting ready a lovely tailor-made 
 2fown to wear during next term. A tailor 
 came over from Exeter and stayed in the 
 house a week to make it. Of course it was 
 a female tailor. 
 
 It was a perfectly plain gown, and looked 
 as if it could have been put together in a day;
 
 MOLL Y PA CKS HER BA G 43 
 
 but to see the number of times that Adela 
 put it on and took it off, and puckered up a 
 wrinkle here and smoothed down a wrinkle 
 there, and encased her limbs in its scanty 
 folds, and kept that wretched female tailor 
 on her knees before it, draping it, as she 
 termed it, was cpnte sickening. 
 
 She kept the woman emplo} 7 ed every 
 minute that she was in the house, making 
 and mending and altering her gowns ready 
 for the ensuing term — -the May term — gayest 
 of all terms of the University year. 
 
 Molly couldn't get a stitch done. ' She 
 can do your things, dear, when Adela has 
 gone,' said Madge sweetly. 
 
 When Adela was gone ! Oh, the situation 
 was horrible ! 
 
 As the days of the short vacation dwindled 
 day by day, and the Rector showed no signs 
 of relenting, and Adela's o'owns drew nearer 
 completion, the longing that came over Molly
 
 44 THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 to return once again to Cambridge became 
 unbearable. She forgave her lover all his 
 altered ways ; she began to see that he meant 
 it all for her good. She was willing to listen 
 to any number of sermons ; she was willing 
 to attend whatever services he thought her 
 case required — she was willing to be converted, 
 if she could only go back to Cambridge. 
 
 The Junior Dean had written to her every 
 week since she came home. His letters were 
 always nice, but they were not so nice as they 
 once had been. She could have left them 
 about for anyone to read without the least 
 confusion. She couldn't have left his letters 
 about once — his dear letters : she carried them 
 still in her bosom. They were written for no 
 eye but her own ; they were utterly foolish 
 and absurd, and would have created roars of 
 laughter in a court of law. 
 
 She had told him that she was not return- 
 ing to Cambridge. He ought to have been
 
 MOLL J r Al CATS HER BAG 45 
 
 broken-hearted at the news, but he bore the 
 announcement with considerable fortitude. 
 He su jested that he should come down to 
 
 CO 
 
 Devonshire and see her at the end of the next 
 term, during the long vacation, with her 
 father's permission. 
 
 At the end of a term that hadn't even begun 
 yet! 
 
 He could go on living without her for a 
 whole term ! 
 
 If anything had been wanting to show that 
 the Junior Dean's ardour was cooling, it 
 would have been this declaration. 
 A whole term without her ! 
 She couldn't go on living without him, she 
 told herself, another week. If she walked 
 barefoot the whole way to Cambridge, she 
 must go back. There was some doubt whether 
 they would receive her in that plight at 
 Xewnham, but in any case she could go to 
 her uncle's, the tutor of Clare.
 
 46 THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 ' What are you packing that bag for, 
 Molly ?' Adela asked her in her sharp way, 
 when she came upon the poor little thing 
 stuffing some clothes into a portmanteau a 
 few days before the end of the vacation. ' I 
 want that bag for my new gown.' 
 
 ' I am packing my things,' said Molly 
 humbly. 
 
 ' Your things ! When you are not going- 
 back ! What new folly is this ? Papa has 
 quite settled it that you are not to go back, 
 and — and I want the bag, plense.' 
 
 { You really cannot have it, Adela ; I must 
 pack it ready. I shan't have time to pack it 
 when — when papa relents.' 
 
 ' Nonsense ! Papa isn't going to relent. 
 Y^ou had better accept the situation, Molly. 
 Besides, I want the bag.' 
 
 ' You won't have the bag if you do want it,' 
 said Molly defiantly. 
 
 There is a certain limit, we are told, when
 
 MOLL Y PA CKS HER BA G 47 
 
 even the worm will turn. That limit had been 
 reached — and the worm had turned. 
 
 The poor little thing had been sat upon all 
 through the vacation ; and her lover had been 
 pulled to pieces in the most outrageous way. 
 He had undergone the most brutal treatment 
 at the hands of the mieno-a^ed young ladies of 
 the neighbourhood. He had been crippled in 
 every hideous and dreadful way ; he had been 
 paralyzed in every limb ; he had suffered 
 general dismemberment. 
 
 Human nature could hold out no longer ; 
 the last straw had been added to the load — 
 the last straw was the disputed bag. 
 
 There was a row royal. It was between 
 sisters, which, as everyone knows, is most 
 unusual. It was between Xewnham girls — in 
 esse and in posse — which is more unusual. 
 Let us draw a curtain over it. It is not 
 seemly that the masculine eye should pierce it 
 — and it was all about a bag !
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 A NEWNHAM GIRL. 
 
 ' But now there are ladies in college, 
 
 There are ladies in chapels and halls ; 
 No doubt 'tis a pure love of knowledge 
 That brings them within our old walls.' 
 
 The bag was packed in spite of Adela's 
 opposition. 
 
 It was not packed in vain. 
 
 It was well that it was packed ready before- 
 hand — quite ready — all but strapj^ed. There 
 would not have been time to pack it if Molly 
 had waited until that last morning when the 
 permission was given for her to return to 
 Cambridge — to enter Newnham. 
 
 She was quite ready when the unwilling
 
 A NEWNHAM GIRL 49 
 
 consent fell from the Kector's lips at the 
 breakfast-table, after he had finished reading 
 his letters. Xever were straps pulled into 
 place more joyfully ! Adela's bag, which was 
 full to repletion, refused to come to without 
 the severest measures ; but Molly's portman- 
 teau required no coaxing. 
 
 It had all come about through Jack. Molly 
 had written to Jack and explained the awful 
 situation. Jack was sympathy itself, and 
 vowed it was a confounded shame. But he 
 did more. He knew exactly that the financial 
 question was at the root of the matter, and he 
 refrained from sending his usual budget of 
 college bills into the paternal exchequer at the 
 beoinnino' of the term ; he went so far as to 
 say that he had a little balance still remaining 
 of that last cheque, and could go on very well 
 for the present. He did this quite unparalleled 
 act of self-denial in order that Molly should 
 come up to Newnham. He represented the 
 
 vol. 1. 4
 
 5o THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 case so strongly that the Rector, who never 
 refused his son anything, consented unwill- 
 ingly, and with a very bad grace. 
 
 To have seen the sisters drive up from the 
 Cambridge station to Newnham in a hansom, 
 with the two portmanteaus neatly strapped 
 on the top, one would have thought they had 
 never had a difference in their lives. 
 
 Molly's eyes were so bright that you could 
 have lit a candle at them, and she was in a 
 flutter of delightful anticipation. She was 
 a student of Newnham, and she would see 
 her lover by-and-by. 
 
 Adela was not a freshman — a freshwoman 
 rather — she was in her second year ; conse- 
 quently she was not excited. Her manners 
 had that delightful repose that marks the 
 female undergraduate, and she wore the 
 accustomed pince-nez. 
 
 There never was such a busy, happy time 
 as that first week. There never was any
 
 A NEWNHAM GIRL 51 
 
 life so delightful as life in a woman's college. 
 If anyone is disposed to ask that foolish 
 question : ' Is life worth living ?' let her 
 settle it at once by coming to live in a college 
 for women. 
 
 In the first place, if she is new to it, she 
 will have to set her room in order, and, oh ! 
 what occupation is more congenial to the 
 female mind than hanging up plates and 
 arranging aesthetic draperies ? 
 
 This occupation will take a long time ; it 
 may be prolonged over the whole three years 
 — ten terms, one should say — of residence. 
 Meanwhile, there is always the serious work 
 of lectures. These may be taken ad libitum, 
 and afford unfailing sources of delight to the 
 intelligent and thirsty mind. To fly about' 
 Cambridge with a bio; note-book, and elbow 
 the meek and unresisting undergraduate out 
 of all the best seats at lectures ; to come out 
 above him in the examinations ; to take the 
 
 4—2 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY nr \\ LlfV0f<c
 
 52 THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 highest places in the class lists ; to beat him 
 on his own ground — surely, to the most 
 jaded, this would give a new zest to life. 
 
 Add to all these delightful possibilities the 
 possession of a lover, a real accepted lover 
 living in the same University, engaged in 
 kindred work, and the picture is complete. 
 The cup is full to the brim. 
 
 Life worth living, indeed ! 
 
 Molly Gray told herself she was the 
 happiest girl in Cambridge — the happiest 
 girl in the whole world. Everything was 
 new and everything was nice — very nice. 
 The Junior Dean, too, was nicer than he was 
 at the end of last term. 
 
 She hadn't written to tell him that she 
 was coming up with Adela ; she hadn't time, 
 as the Rector did not give his consent until 
 the very morning she started. 
 
 She had come up on the Saturday, late in 
 the day, and she was so busy settling in her
 
 A NEWNHAM GIRL 53 
 
 new rooms that she hadn't apprised him or 
 anybody of her coming. 
 
 Besides, she wanted it to be a surprise. 
 It was a surprise indeed. 
 
 Adela had refused to <^o with her to St. 
 Stephen's to look up Jack, and she hadn't 
 the courage to go alone. So she went with a 
 party of Xewnham girls to King's. There 
 is always a lovely anthem and a delightful 
 service at King's College Chapel on Sunday 
 afternoons, and there is no sermon. 
 
 Hither, during term, the students of the 
 women's colleges repair in large numbers. 
 Nor is it less affected by other members of 
 the University not necessarily connected with 
 King's. 
 
 There is always a rush for seats in the 
 chapel, and an impregnable verger stems the 
 tide flowing up the nave the moment the 
 available seats are full. 
 
 The seats within the chapel for the use of
 
 54 THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 the public were all full when Molly and her 
 friends arrived. They met a party of under- 
 graduates, who had been refused admittance, 
 returning crestfallen, but the Newnham girls 
 went boldly to the front. The impregnable 
 gave way, and the students of the women's 
 colleges, as usual, occupied the best seats. 
 
 Molly lingered a long time on her knees, 
 thanking Providence, no doubt, for having 
 brought her there. She had nothing to ask 
 for. She had only to return thanks. 
 
 When she rose from her knees and looked 
 across the nave at the grave, gay, careless 
 faces opposite, she saw — the Junior Dean. 
 
 He wasn't looking at her ; he was looking 
 straight up, as men do Sunday after Sunday, 
 term after term, at the great painted windows 
 above her. The spell in the old windows 
 held him as it has held so many generations 
 of Cambridge men. 
 
 It was not a pleasant window he was look-
 
 A NEWNHAM GIRL 5$ 
 
 ing at, whatever its lesson was, and every 
 window preaches its own special lesson. 
 
 A shameful lesson of cursing and betrayal 
 the Old Testament lesson above — the type — 
 Cain slaying his brother, Shimei cursing 
 David ; the New Testament lesson beneath — 
 the anti-type — Judas betraying his Master; 
 the soldiers mocking their Kino-. Oh, it was 
 a shameful window ! 
 
 He got tired of looking at it, as well he 
 might, and his eyes travelled on to the next 
 window. A difficult window to make out — 
 a window full of lamentation and woe. Only 
 one figure was plain, shamefully plain : Noah 
 drunken and naked. 
 
 The Junior Dean would not look at it any 
 longer, and he dropped his eyes to the well- 
 filled benches below — and he saw Molly. 
 
 He wasn't at all sure it was Molly ; his 
 thoughts were so confused with trying to 
 make out the window, that he thought he
 
 56 THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 was dreaming. And then a sudden panic 
 seized him — he didn't believe in ghosts — but 
 he wasn't sure that Molly wasn't a ghost. A 
 very nice-looking ghost with, oh, such bright 
 eyes ! 
 
 The choir had come in, and there was a 
 rustle of academic gowns and everybody was 
 standing up, and the ghost stood up. 
 
 No ; clearly it could not be a ghost. He 
 never knew how he got through that service ; 
 he waited for her outside in the sunshine, 
 and it seemed to him that a new glory filled 
 the dim, solemn place when she appeared on 
 the threshold. She saw him waiting for her 
 outside, and she stepped out of the dark 
 porch, leaving the glory behind her. Her 
 eyes were shining, and her lips were smiling 
 u]3on him, and her little dainty gloved hand 
 was outstretched; and if there hadn't been all 
 that tiresome crowd pouring out of the chapel 
 and the men in their surplices looking on, he
 
 A NEWNHAM GIRL 57 
 
 felt he should have gone down on his knees 
 and worshipped her. 
 
 He did nothing so foolish ; he merely 
 raised his cap in a way one is not accustomed 
 to greet angels, and shook hands with her. 
 And then the crowd melted away from them, 
 and they were walking side by side, not 
 through the court where the fountain was 
 playing, and out through the gateway with 
 the many little pointed pinnacles, which 
 irreverent undergraduates term i the cruet- 
 stand,' but in the broad walk skirting the 
 meadows, with the pigeons circling around 
 them and dropping down on the path before 
 them, and cooing in the most ridiculous 
 sympathetic way, as if they were in the secret 
 and knew all about the engagement. 
 
 And presently they were standing on 
 King's Bridge looking down at the reflection 
 of the willows in the dark water beneath. 
 
 'And you have really come back ?' he was
 
 58 THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 saying ; he was not looking down at the 
 water, but he was looking into her sweet 
 eyes as he had not looked since that night 
 when he thanked her for her dear letter. 
 ' Yes,' she said brightly, * are you very 
 
 sor 
 
 r J 
 
 r 
 
 ' My darling !' 
 
 He couldn't take her hand very well, for there 
 were a lot of undergraduates loitering near, 
 who, though they look so meek and ingenuous, 
 have a talent for seeing many things that 
 they are not supposed to see. He looked 
 down at the bright face and the charming 
 profile and the shining eyes, and he thanked 
 God humbly for having brought her back to 
 him. 
 
 King's Bridge is not exactly a place to 
 loiter on of a Sunday afternoon. One can 
 pause for a minute and admire the view. It's 
 quite the regulation thing to do, indeed, like 
 counting the balls on Clare, and telling, or
 
 A NEWNHAM GIRL 59 
 
 listening with polite interest to, the story about 
 them. 
 
 It is impossible to cross King's Bridge in 
 the spring-time without pausing. The finest 
 chapel in the world is reflected in the water 
 beneath ; lofty towers and crocketed pinnacles, 
 with the pigeons flying in and out, are given 
 back faithfully, and the fair front of Clare, and 
 the picturesque bridge, with the circle of its 
 arch completed in the water beneath; and 
 beyond, a delightful vista of stately avenues, 
 and college bridges, and the willows dipping 
 into the stream and getting mixed up with 
 the shadows. There is nothing so lovely 
 in the spring-time as to loiter amid the 
 new greenery of the Backs — to see the sun- 
 light falling down between the leaves, and 
 the patches of blue April skies above the 
 branches. There is always a cawing of 
 rooks here, and a cooing of pigeons, and a 
 thrush is never far off. The place is so full
 
 60 THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 of old memories and new life. A thousand 
 stories could be written of these stately 
 avenues and dusky groves, since Erasmus 
 walked beneath their shade. They are much 
 frequented by lovers still, and the same story 
 has been told in them over and over again. 
 Many generations have come and gone since 
 those old trees were planted, and new schools 
 have sprung up, and the world has grown, 
 oh, so much wiser ! but a generation has not 
 yet come that has refused to listen to the old, 
 foolish story. 
 
 The Junior Dean told it over again, in his 
 own particular way — there are many ways of 
 telling it — on this sweet Sabbath afternoon, 
 and the fine organ in King's Chapel played a 
 distant accompaniment. 
 
 . He took Molly back to her aunt's 
 through the Backs, by the longest possible 
 way round. They had so much to say to 
 each other that the way was all too short to
 
 A NEWNHAM GIRL 61 
 
 Bay it in ; and then Molly promised to come 
 round and see Jack at St. Stephen's, and if it 
 were before chapel the Junior Dean would 
 drop in. She forgot all about Adela and her 
 scruples when she made this promise ; and, of 
 course, the Junior Dean ought to have known 
 better. 
 
 The wife of the tutor of Clare was delighted 
 to see Molly back again. She had not at all 
 expected to see her, after the doleful letters 
 she had received from Silverton. 
 
 Molly was her favourite niece ; she was 
 ever so much more approachable than Adela, 
 of whom the tutor's wife stood in some awe. 
 She never could get Adela interested in her 
 gowns, or in a new cap, or any other achieve- 
 ment of the milliner or mantua-maker's art. 
 A girl who was doing such brilliant things 
 at Xewnham could not be expected to take 
 an interest — except a personal one — in such 
 sublunary things. So the tutor's wife r
 
 62 THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 when she wanted sympathy, fell back upon 
 Molly. 
 
 ' 1 shouldn't have bought this gown, dear, 
 if I had known you were coming up/ she said 
 to Molly with a sigh, when she had got her 
 apart into a window, and the tutor had got 
 the Junior Dean by the button (metaphori- 
 cally, of course). ' I should have waited to 
 ask your opinion. You always know what 
 suits me.' 
 
 The wife of the tutor of Clare was a florid 
 person, and was more than inclined to embon- 
 point, so that a great deal of her dress was 
 visible at either a front or a back view. It 
 could not be gathered up and tucked away 
 somewhere out of sight, like the dresses of 
 some ladies. It was very much en evidence, 
 and as the colour happened to be magenta, 
 there was some reason for her lament. 
 
 And then Molly did a dreadful thing. She 
 told a fib in the most unblushing manner.
 
 A NEWNHAM GIRL 63 
 
 1 It's quite lovely, dear ; it suits you per- 
 fectly ; and, oh, how beautifully it fits V 
 
 Molly finished up this mendacious statement 
 with a kiss ; and Mrs. Gray, in the very best 
 of humours, came over to the tea-table and 
 poured out tea. She couldn't be. nice enough 
 to the Junior Dean. She told him that he 
 could always see Molly at her Wednesday ' at 
 homes,' and at luncheon on Sundays, with all 
 the long, blissful afternoons before him. 
 
 Oh, it was quite worth while telling a fib 
 about that magenta gown ! 
 
 The Junior Dean had to hurry away all too 
 soon to his college chapel, and Molly had to go 
 back to Newnham. He managed to see her 
 part of the way, and he held her hand a little 
 long at parting. He would have given the 
 whole world to have taken her in his arms — 
 and she would not have raised the least objec- 
 tion — but under the trees in the Backs it was 
 out of the question.
 
 64 THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 He restrained his ardour, and shook hands 
 with her instead, and murmured, ' God blesa 
 you, my darling!' and went his way, the hap- 
 piest man in Cambridge. 
 
 Molly hadn't any exacting college chapel to 
 hurry back to, so she had leisure to pause half- 
 way down the avenue and look after him. 
 
 He was limping back to his college in the 
 most cheerful way in the world. The limp 
 didn't show very much under his long M.A. 
 gown ; the big folds and the sleeves took it 
 off, and, except for a little swinging motion in 
 his gait, nobody would have known that he 
 was lame. Oh, if those Silverton girls could 
 only have seen him now ! 
 
 When Molly got back to Newnham a mes- 
 sage awaited her that Miss Godolphin wished 
 to speak to her. 
 
 To a masculine mind a similar message from 
 such a quarter would have signified that he was 
 about to be ' hauled up.' To Molly it had no
 
 A NEWNHAM GIRL 65 
 
 special signification. She obeyed the message 
 and went into Miss Godolphin's august presence 
 smiling as sweetly as if she had asked her to 
 afternoon tea. 
 
 She looked so pretty, and so happy, and 
 so entirely unsuspicious of anything being 
 amiss, that Miss Godolphin's wrath was dis- 
 armed. 
 
 1 1 hear, Mary Gray,' she began severely, 
 1 that you have been walking with a gentle- 
 man — a member of the University — in the 
 Backs this afternoon.' 
 
 Molly blushed rosy red. She never was 
 prettier than when she blushed ; and she 
 smiled, too, and all her dimples came oat. 
 
 ' Yes,' she said sweetly, smiling up into 
 Miss Godolphin's face ; ' I was walking with 
 Mr. Keith Fellowes after King's. He took me 
 through the Backs to my aunt's to tea. It 
 was a long way round, but, oh, the Backs are 
 splendid ! You haven't seen them this term, 
 
 vol. 1. 5
 
 66 THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 or you wouldn't wonder at our going that 
 way.' 
 
 Xow, Miss Grodolphin knew exactly what 
 the Backs were like at all seasons of the year ; 
 and she had not sent for Molly to discuss the 
 scenery with her. 
 
 1 It is not usual,' she said, with as much 
 gravity as she could command, ' for the 
 students of the women's colleges to walk 
 about the town, and especially in the Backs 
 of a Sunday afternoon, with members of the 
 University, unless they are their immediate 
 relations.' 
 
 (No cousins, Miss Molly !) 
 
 1 But,' said Molly with a pout, and blushing 
 divinely, ' Mr. Fellowes is almost a relation. 
 I — I am going to marry him !' 
 
 * Then I think, my dear, you will have to 
 choose a less public place for your courting 
 than the Backs.' 
 
 ; But we were not courting !' said Molly with
 
 A NEWNHAM GIRL 67 
 
 an injured air ; ' we were only walking back 
 from King's Chapel.' 
 
 She had a vision before her eyes, when Miss 
 Godolphin described the situation so bluntly, 
 of a rustic swain toying with Amaryllis in the 
 shade. The Junior Dean was not toying — he 
 didn't even take her hand ; and after all his 
 self-denial to be told they were courting ! 
 
 Miss Godolphin smiled, and kissed the girl 
 on her hot cheek. ' You must not let it 
 happen again, my dear,' she said ; * at least, 
 not in the Backs.' 
 
 5—2
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 A COLLEGE TEA. 
 
 c Here's a mellow cup of tea — golden tea ! 
 What a world of rapturous thought its fragrance brings to 
 me! 5 
 
 Jack did not come up the next day, or the 
 next after that, or the day following. He did 
 not come up, indeed, until very nearly the 
 last day for keeping the term. 
 
 When he did come up he did not settle to 
 work. He was rowing in his college boat in 
 the May races, and he had to spend a great 
 deal of his time on the water, and the rest in 
 the society of his friends. He had to break- 
 fast, lunch and dine with the boat's crew, and 
 he had to talk matters over with them after
 
 A COLLEGE TEA 69 
 
 each meal, which consumed a good deal of the 
 day, and left very little time for lectures and 
 chapels. He wasn't going in for his Trip, for 
 another year, and he had come up this term to 
 enjoy himself. 
 
 At least, this was the programme he had 
 mapped out. 
 
 Molly came up to his rooms for at least the 
 sixth time — she was quite ashamed of being 
 seen on his staircase knocking at that closed 
 door — and found him in. At least half the 
 boat's crew were there talking matters over, 
 and when Molly came in two or three melted 
 imperceptibly away. 
 
 Two men remained — the cox and stroke ; 
 they had other names, but Molly never could 
 remember them. Cox, as he should be, was a 
 little man, and stroke beside him looked a big 
 man. Jack was proud of his friends and 
 proud of his sister, and he was delighted when 
 Molly shook hands with both.
 
 70 THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 She would have kissed him if the men 
 hadn't been there, but he was indifferent to 
 the sisterly salute, and shook hands with her 
 instead. 
 
 ' Up at last, Jack !' she said in a tone of 
 mild reproof. 
 
 ' Up quite soon enough. If it hadn't been 
 for the boat, and these fellows here, I shouldn't 
 have been up for another week.' 
 
 4 Oh, Jack, you couldn't have kept the term 
 if you had stayed another clay.' 
 
 ' Oh yes I could ! Fellowes would have 
 made it all right for me.' 
 
 Molly flushed hot and indignant. It was 
 too bad of Jack, and before those men, too. 
 
 The family likeness was repeated in Jack. 
 He was exactly like Molly ; he was exactly 
 like the other girls, and he was the very 
 image of his father. 
 
 All that was soft and delightful in the girls 
 was hard and rugged in Jack. The same
 
 A COLLEGE TEA 71 
 
 charming profile, with ever)' line deepened and 
 exaggerated. He was ruddv and tanned and 
 freckled, while their complexions were 
 extremely well preserved, especially Adela's, 
 which was always protected by a sunshade. 
 He had the same wavy chestnut hair falling 
 over his face, and the bushy eyebrows that 
 made the Hector so formidable, and the 
 brightest blue eyes beneath them. They were 
 decidedly blue, which is more than could be 
 said of Molly's. 
 
 He was a bio- strong fellow, and rowed 
 ' five ' in his college boat. He was brimming 
 over with fun and frolic and laughter — and 
 he was one-and-twenty. 
 
 ' How's the governor, and Madge ?' he said 
 presently, when the introductions were over. 
 
 ' Oh, papa was dreadfully disappointed 
 because you didn't come home,' said Molly 
 stiffly : she couldn't get over that allusion to 
 her lover, who was a Spartan for discipline.
 
 72 THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 1 Oh, was he ? I'm so sorry. Dear old 
 fellow ! I would have run down if I thought 
 he'd cared.' 
 
 His bright face clouded for a moment as 
 he spoke of his father — the indulgent father 
 who was so proud of him. He experienced 
 a genuine pang of remorse for just thirty 
 seconds for having disappointed him. 
 
 4 1 wish my mater would be dreadfully dis- 
 appointed if I didn't turn up,' said stroke with 
 a laugh ; ' it's always the other way.' 
 
 Molly didn't like the laugh, and she didn't 
 like the man, though he was very useful in 
 lighting the sjjirit-lamp under the tea-kettle 
 while she got the materials together for tea. 
 She had met him often before at her brother's 
 rooms, and she liked him less every time she 
 met him. 
 
 Jack had only come up the day before, and 
 his bedmaker had not laid in a stock of 
 groceries. Stroke volunteered to go on a
 
 A COLLEGE TEA 73 
 
 marauding tour through the staircase, and 
 lind materials for a meal. He came back 
 presently with his hands full. The men were 
 all out, and he had made a raid on their cup- 
 boards. His pockets were full, as well as his 
 hands. He had a tin of biscuits under one 
 arm and a cake under the other, and he 
 carried a pot of jam and a jug of milk, and 
 tea and sugar, and *ome potted shrimps, in his 
 pocket. 
 
 He displayed his booty with much pride, 
 and proceeded to help Molly lay the tea-things 
 and cut up the cake, and spread the potted 
 shrimps in the most lavish way over some 
 dainty bread and butter. If it had been his 
 own, as the little cox remarked, he couldn't 
 have been more free with it. 
 
 The kettle took a very long time to boil. 
 It took longer to boil than any other kettle on 
 the staircase, and it had a habit of singing on 
 the smallest provocation without the slightest
 
 74 THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 intention of boiling. It was a mendacious, 
 untrustworthy kettle, but if any man on the 
 staircase was up to it, it was stroke. 
 
 He put the tea in the teapot with the 
 same liberal hand that he spread the potted 
 shrimps, and he waited upon the kettle, ready 
 to seize it the moment it boiled. It was 
 singing in the most cheerful way, and steam- 
 ing like a locomotive, but it couldn't take Mr. 
 Brackenbury in. 
 
 While he watched that shifty, untrustable 
 kettle with a sly twinkle in his eyes, a sort 
 of ' you-don't-take-me-in-old-fellow ' kind of 
 look, Molly had an opportunity of watching 
 him. 
 
 He was quite worth watching. He was 
 quite worth any girl's notice. A great many 
 girls honoured him with something more than 
 notice. 
 
 As he bent over the kettle with that twinkle 
 in his eye, he was delightful.
 
 A COLLEGE TEA 75 
 
 A well-knit frame, which the parti-coloured 
 blazer of St. Stephen's set off to perfection ; 
 a pensive face, which the long, black, straight 
 hair that fell over his forehead gave a decided 
 poetical cast to. But his eyes beneath, soft, 
 languorous, dreamy, but with a light in them 
 that came and went, and flashed out suddenly, 
 ike the spark hidden in a diamond, were not 
 at all the eyes of a poet. 
 
 They were very handsome eyes ; shifty and 
 untrustable, but eyes that went direct to 
 women's hearts. His face was clean-shaven, 
 so that the curves of the full, shapely mouth 
 and chin were seen distinctly. There was 
 not a line of self-denial in it. 
 
 Molly, looking at him across the table, while 
 he watched the kettle, compared him in her 
 mind to the Junior Dean — she compared 
 everybody with the Junior Dean — and 
 sighed. 
 
 She didn't sigh because her lover was not
 
 76 THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 so handsome or so wicked-looking as this 
 delightful Captain Macheath, Claude Duval, 
 or Don Juan — he could have stood for each 
 of these characters equally well — but because 
 he was so far removed from him, from all 
 ordinary mortals. 
 
 Perhaps he wouldn't have brewed such 
 good tea. It is certain he would not have 
 made it at the right moment. He would 
 have been taken in by the specious wiles of 
 that mendacious old kettle, and he would 
 have spoilt the tea. 
 
 While Molly poured out the tea, stroke, 
 otherwise Mr. Neil Brackenbury, handed 
 round the cake, and made himself as much 
 at home as if the rooms were his own. 
 
 ' You must come down and see us practise, 
 Miss Gray,' he said. ' We are going to 
 practise every day now Jack's up. We are 
 going to make a bump every night in the 
 races.'
 
 A COLLEGE TEA 77 
 
 1 Whew !' said the little cox ; ' you'll have 
 to look sharp to make one bump.' 
 
 He was a determined-looking little fellow, 
 with a very crooked nose ; it had been injured 
 in an accident at football, and it gave him 
 a rather disagreeable expression, which was 
 unfair, as he was by no means a disagreeable 
 little man. 
 
 Molly hadn't taken much notice of him, 
 very few women did, and she gave him the 
 worst cup of tea in the pot for his ill-natured 
 remark. 
 
 He took it humbly, and picked out the 
 driest and hardest biscuit in the tin and ate 
 it sparingly. He was conscientiously averse 
 to adding an extra ounce to his weight. He 
 weighed himself every day, and had just 
 brought himself down to seven stone. 
 
 ' Don't listen to him, Miss Gray ; he does 
 nothing but croak and prophesy evil. You 
 should see his face in the boat when we are
 
 78 THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 within a yard of a bump; you would think 
 we were losing at every stroke. I've sat 
 opposite to him too often not to know every 
 shade of his wily old countenance. When he 
 looks the gloomiest I know we are winning. 
 Yes, whatever he says, we are going up a 
 place every night.' 
 
 4 If you go on eating cake and potted 
 shrimps at that rate, we shall go down a 
 place every night, more likely,' grumbled 
 the cox. 
 
 He spoke with some reason, for the cake 
 had nearly disappeared, and the potted 
 shrimps were rapidly following it. 
 
 4 Yes, you really must come and see us 
 practise, Molly,' said Jack. * If you walk 
 along the tow-path you'll see us splendid.' 
 
 4 1 should like to,' said Molly, her eyes 
 growing bright at the delightful prospect in 
 that sudden way they had of brightening. ' I 
 should like it immensely ; but I don't know
 
 A COLLEGE TEA 79 
 
 what Miss Godolphin would say, she's so 
 awfully particular." 
 
 1 Oh, hang Miss Godolphin ! Can't you 
 go anywhere without that old Gorgon know- 
 ing it ?' 
 
 ' She finds it out,' said Molly sadly ; she 
 remembered that little lecture about walking 
 in the Backs. ' She finds out everything. 
 But you must not call her a Gorgon, Jack ; 
 she's very nice ; she's quite lovely for — 
 for ' 
 
 ' For an old maid. Exactly ; I don't dis- 
 pute the point. I only dispute her right to 
 prevent your walking in any direction you 
 may desire to walk. Besides, you'll be having 
 a boat on the river boon, you and Girton, and 
 boat-houses on the bank, and a grind of your 
 own, and you must come down pretty often 
 while we are practising to see how the thing- 
 is managed.' 
 
 ' Oh, Jack, it would be splendid ! If it
 
 80 THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 could only be managed ! I am sure Newnham 
 would beat Girton.' 
 
 ' I'd back Newnham,' said Brackenbury 
 gallantly. ' You should begin tubbing at 
 once, Miss Gray. There's nothing like begin- 
 ning early. Get your girls to come down to 
 our boat-house ; we'll tub 'em. By Jove ! I 
 should like to coach the Newnham boat !' 
 
 The prospect was delightful. 
 
 ' Oh, I don't think it would ever do,' said 
 Molly ; ' but it would be quite lovely. If we 
 did have a boat on the river I suppose we 
 should have a — a female coach, and, oh, what 
 a life we should lead her !' 
 
 The men were laughing hilariously at the 
 picture of a boat full of Newnham girls, with 
 a female coach on the tow-path, shouting 
 herself hoarse, and Molly was laughing, too — 
 ( a delightful, fresh young laugh that sounded 
 strangely in a college room — when the door 
 opened and the Junior Dean came in.
 
 A COLLEGE TEA 81 
 
 They had been laughing so loud that they 
 hadn't heard his knock, and the effect of his 
 coming in was something like a wet-blanket. 
 
 The men rose up to go when he came in 
 — it is not considered etiquette for under- 
 graduates to remain if a Fellow drops in. 
 
 ' Oh,' he said stiffly, ' pray don't go ; pray 
 sit down, I'm going directly/ 
 
 ' I was just going, sir,' said Brackenbury ; he 
 had finished the cake and the potted shrimps, 
 and he slipped out of the room, followed by 
 the cox, without another word about that 
 new boat on the river. 
 
 The Junior Dean had expected to see 
 Molly there — he had made the appointment 
 to meet her there — but there was a little shade 
 of surprise or disappointment, or both, on his 
 face when he saw her pouring out tea for 
 Jack's friends. 
 
 She poured him out some tea, but it was 
 cold and flat, and there was nothing left to 
 
 vol. i. 6
 
 82 THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 eat but a very dry biscuit. There were the 
 crumbs of the cake — it had been a rich cake — 
 and a faint aroma of potted shrimps was still 
 in the air, and he knew that she had been 
 smiling upon the man who had eaten these 
 delicacies as she was smiling at him now — 
 the same bright smile, the same dear, dainty 
 little laugh. 
 
 He had heard her laugh, and he knew 
 exactly, although he had not seen it, how she 
 had smiled; and looking at her bright face 
 across the table, he sighed. 
 
 He would not have her less glad and happy 
 for the world ; still, he sighed. 
 
 He drank the tea, and he trifled with the 
 biscuit, and he asked Jack about his journey 
 and what he had been doing in the vacation, 
 and recommended him to attend his lectures 
 more regularly, and gave him some good 
 brotherly advice, all of which Jack listened 
 to with the greatest good-nature in the world.
 
 A COLLEGE TEA S3 
 
 And then Molly told him about Miss 
 Godolphin's lecture — she didn't say any- 
 thing about the courting — and that she must 
 not walk with him in the Backs any more. 
 
 She expected him to look sorry : she 
 pursed up her mouth — it was quite attrac- 
 tive enough already — and pretended to pout 
 at the deprivation of walking beneath the 
 chestnuts in the Backs; but the Junior 
 Dean remarked that Miss Godolphin was 
 perfectly right. It would never do to have 
 the Newnham girls making assignations in 
 the Backs of the colleges. 
 
 There was not a word said about the 
 Xewnham boat, or the tubbing, or the pro- 
 posed walks by the river. 
 
 While they were still talking the chapel bell 
 began to ring, and then Jack had to fly off to 
 get his gown, which he had left in another 
 man's rooms across the quad, and Molly was 
 left alone with her lover. 
 
 6—2
 
 8 4 THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 She had not been alone with him, except 
 in the Backs, since she had come up. She 
 might not be alone with him again, not 
 for weeks, and — well, he might have taken 
 her in his arms and kissed her forehead, oi- 
 lier glowing cheeks — they were really glow- 
 ing in anticipation — but he did nothing of 
 the kind. He merely remarked that he 
 should just be in time for chapel, and — 
 and he shook hands with her and went out. 
 
 There were tears smarting in her eyes as 
 she saw him limping across the quad. ' He 
 ought to have been an angel,' she said im- 
 patiently ; he was much too good for her ; 
 indeed, she didn't believe he loved her at all ! 
 
 The Junior Dean was only a man — he had 
 a very high ideal of womanhood, but he was 
 only a man, and there would have been no 
 greater bliss possible to him on earth than to 
 have taken the woman he loved in his arms 
 for one brief moment, and imprinted the
 
 A COLLEGE TEA 85 
 
 seal of his devotion — well, on her glowing- 
 cheeks ; but that aroma of potted shrimps, 
 and the face of the man who had consumed 
 this delicacy, came between them, and he 
 shook hands with her and went out.
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 ON THE CAM. 
 
 ' Time, bow, do you hear ? 
 
 Don't stare at the ladies ; 
 How are we to steer ? 
 
 Time, bow, do you hear ?' 
 
 The tow-path of the Cam is not wholly 
 unfrequented by ladies during May term. 
 When the crews are practising, in the long, 
 light, delightful spring afternoons, the prettiest 
 costumes in Cambridge may be seen on its 
 banks. Not in crowds, by any means; just 
 in twos or threes, like the Graces, and dis- 
 creetly chaperoned. 
 
 Sometimes a brother may do duty as a 
 chaperon ; he is quite as useful, and infinitely
 
 ON THE CAM 87 
 
 more agreeable. He can pilot you across the 
 grind, and give you a peep into the boat- 
 houses, where not the stoutest-hearted cha- 
 peron would dare to venture. He is much 
 more communicative, and will tell you the 
 name and place of every boat, the weight of 
 the crews, what bumps they are going to 
 make ; and will translate for you the techni- 
 calities of the boating slang you will hear on 
 the banks. 
 
 Unfortunately, Miss Mary Gray had not a 
 brother to perform this delightful task ; and 
 she hadn't a chaperon. 
 
 She had another girl with her when she 
 ventured upon Midsummer Common, on her 
 way to the tow-path to look out for Jack. 
 
 It was a Newnham girl that she had struck 
 up a sudden friendship with, and her name 
 was Dorothy Piggott. 
 
 Her appearance was quite as uninteresting 
 as her name. She was exactly the opposite of
 
 88 THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 Molly. It was purely a case of attraction of 
 opposites. She was a plain-looking girl, with 
 absent, preoccupied eyes — she didn't even wear 
 glasses to hide them. She looked out upon 
 the world with her absent eyes, without any 
 intervening medium. Her clothes were ill- 
 fitting, and put on with a slovenly disregard 
 to effect ; there was a button or two short on 
 her jacket, and holes in her gloves, and she 
 wore a most unbecoming hat. 
 
 Perhaps all these details were more marked 
 because Mary Gray wore the sweetest and 
 most becoming of spring costumes ; and her 
 eyes were so bright, and her complexion was 
 so clear and delicious, she looked an ethereal 
 creature, made up of smiles and airy colour. 
 
 All the men looked at her as she crossed 
 Midsummer Common, and nobody looked at 
 Dorothy Piggott. 
 
 Perhaps this was compensation, because 
 everybody snubbed Molly at Newnham — there
 
 OX THE CAM 89 
 
 was an impression prevalent at that seat of 
 learning that she would be ploughed in her 
 Little-go — and everybody worshipped Dorothy 
 Pio-o^ott. 
 
 There was also an impression prevalent 
 concerning the result of Miss Piggott's ex- 
 amination, which was coming off shortly. 
 
 She was a candidate for a place in the 
 Mathematical Tripos. 
 
 She had been at Xewnham three years, and 
 she had never been on Midsummer Common 
 before. She had never been on the river ; she 
 had never waited breathlessly for a bump at 
 Ditton ; she had never come down after the 
 race in the scrum. 
 
 She had been at Cambridge three years, and 
 she had missed all these things ! 
 
 She had been working hard all the time. 
 Doubtless work has its compensations, so, 
 probably, Dorothy Piggott's loss was a gain, 
 after all. But she had come down to the
 
 90 THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 river now — she, the promising Senior Sopho- 
 more of Newnham, with this giddy little 
 freshman (the students of the women's col- 
 leges object to being called fvesh-women). 
 
 She had come down for a holiday. The 
 medical attendant of the college had prescribed 
 three hours' perfect rest every day — three hours' 
 complete relaxation from the severe mental 
 strain of her tremendous studies, and she had 
 come down to the river with Molly for a rest. 
 
 The great mind had unbent. 
 
 It didn't unbend all at once; it unbent 
 gradually. In the streets of Cambridge, 
 under the shadow of the colleges, it was silent 
 and preoccupied, not to say glum. But on 
 the grass of Midsummer Common, the soft, 
 springing grass, and the blue April skies 
 above, it unbent suddenly. 
 
 She startled Molly when they were half-way 
 across the common by suggesting that they 
 should run. Eunning had been the only form
 
 ON THE CAM 9* 
 
 of exercise Miss Piggott had been in the habit 
 of indulging in. 
 
 She was in a great hurry to see the river ; 
 she was within a hundred yards of it, but 
 there was not the slightest indication of it 
 visible. There were boating men in flannels 
 and college blazers hurrying across the 
 common, and the parti-coloured boathouses 
 on the further bank, and coaches riding up 
 and down the grass a few yards in front of 
 her, and still no sign of the river. 
 
 Distance certainly lends no enchantment to 
 a view of the Cam, as a spectator can only see 
 it when he is actually on the bank, and look- 
 ing down into it. It is the slowest, muddiest 
 stream of water that was ever honoured by 
 the name of a river ; it is ever so much more 
 like a ditch or a canal — it never ripples, nor 
 murmurs, nor laps, yet here, on its slow 
 stagnant bosom, generation after generation of 
 the flower of our English vouth have sought,
 
 92 THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 and found, the keenest enjoyment, the most 
 delightful exercise and relaxation. 
 
 Cambridge men will never forget to their 
 latest day, amid the loveliest scenery, these 
 dull gray flats, and the slow turbid river that 
 has been the scene of so many exciting con- 
 tests, of so many glorious triumphs. 
 
 Miss Piggott was disappointed, as every- 
 body is, at the first view of the Cam. 
 
 ' Oh V she said, ' is this the river T 
 
 She had expected to see a long straight 
 sweep of water flashing in the sunlight, and 
 not this dark slow stream, with its narrow 
 reaches and many winding corners. 
 
 ' Yes,' said Molly, ' this is the river, and, 
 oh, if we had only got a boat upon it !' 
 
 She even went so far as to pick out the 
 exact spot where the Newnham boathouse 
 was to stand, and the colour it was to be 
 painted. 
 
 Dorothy Piggott's enthusiasm was not so
 
 ON THE CAM 93 
 
 easily roused. She didn't like the look of the 
 water ; and she objected to the length of the 
 boats ; and she had serious doubts about the 
 costume. Still, she didn't throw cold water 
 upon it. 
 
 There were not many ladies on the bank, 
 and there were fewer still upon the towpath. 
 The girls had enough to do to keep out of the 
 way of the coaches, who were galloping up 
 and down the narrow path, and shouting the 
 most bewildering instructions to the crews. 
 The amount of bullyragging those spiritless 
 creatures bore was quite astonishing. 
 
 'I'm sure I shouldn't stand being bullied 
 so,' said Molly. ' Fancy being told before a 
 lot of men, looking on, to keep your knees 
 down ! that your stroke is very uneven, first 
 one side and then the other, and that perhaps 
 it's your body !' 
 
 ' I dare say we should deserve it,' said 
 Dorothy Pio-o-ott.
 
 94 THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 4 1 think we'll have a man to coach us ; he 
 wouldn't dare to say such rude things as a 
 woman/ said Molly. ' It would be dreadful 
 to have a woman screeching at us on the 
 bank. The stroke of St. Stephen's has offered 
 to coach us.' 
 
 At this very moment, when the name of the 
 boat was on her lips, it swung round the 
 corner. She knew it, she declared, in a 
 moment, not by the college colours alone, but 
 by the pace of the boat, by the form of the 
 crew. She knew they saw her, though they 
 dared not raise their eyes to the bank ; they 
 could not possibly take their caps off, but the 
 little cox raised his hat gallantly as they spun 
 by. 
 
 4 There, that is our boat,' said Molly breath- 
 lessly ; ' aren't they lovely ? Isn't it the 
 nicest crew you've seen, Dorothy ?' 
 
 ' Which is the man that's going to coach 
 us ?' inquired Miss Piggott irrelevantly.
 
 ON THE CAM 95 
 
 1 Oh, the stroke — the man with the black 
 hair over his forehead/ 
 
 It is impossible to see much of the crew of 
 a practising eight as it swings by with a flash 
 of the oars. The girls turned and looked 
 after the boat, but a nasty corner — there are 
 always nasty corners on the Cam — hid it from 
 their sight. It was scarcely worth while to 
 walk all that way from Xewnham to get a 
 passing glimpse of, say, thirty seconds of the 
 St. Stephen's boat, but at any rate Molly had 
 shown her loyalty. 
 
 The girls had passed Ditton, and were 
 opposite the Plough, when Dorothy Piggott 
 suggested they had better turn. She had had 
 exactly one and a half hours' relaxation by 
 the minute-hand of a clumsy silver lever 
 watch she carried, and her soul yearned to 
 be back ao-ain at her darling mathematics. 
 
 Molly turned reluctantly ; her soul yearned 
 for nothing beyond this — the April sunshine,
 
 96 THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 the springing grass of the meadows, the 
 willows clipping clown into the stream, and 
 the measured pulse of racing oars. 
 
 None of the ladies who honoured the tow- 
 path with their presence had ventured so far 
 as the Plough, and the girls were quite alone. 
 There was not anyone in sight, except the 
 coaches riding up and down bullying the 
 crews. 
 
 Molly had a suspicion that it was well the 
 Junior Dean didn't see her there ; and per- 
 haps it would be as well that Miss Goclolphin 
 should not be informed of the direction and 
 extent of their walk. 
 
 Long before they reached the railway 
 bridge the St. Stephen's boat passed them 
 coming back. It didn't exactly pass them ; it 
 stopped in the middle of the Long Reach, and 
 the crew rested on their oars while the coach 
 delivered a long harangue from the bank. 
 
 The girls stopped too, and admired them.
 
 ON THE CAM 97 
 
 Molly had a right to admire them ; her 
 brother rowed five, and she had an interest in 
 the boat that bore the same colours as the 
 Junior Dean. 
 
 Three caps were taken off simultaneously, 
 and the men were all looking at the girls on 
 the bank ; they were not paying the slightest 
 attention to- the coach, who was shouting 
 himself red in the face. 
 
 But the strangest thing of all was that they 
 were not looking at Molly. They were all 
 looking at Dorothy Piggott, who bore the 
 scrutiny unmoved. She had grown quite 
 used to being looked at. 
 
 How the men stared ! It was not often 
 they got so good a chance. One can see a 
 pretty girl any day, but a possible Senior 
 Wrangler — especially one in petticoats — is 
 worth looking at. 'Miss Piggott !' * Miss 
 Dorothy Piggott !' was whispered almost 
 audibly from cox to bow. 
 
 vol. 1. 7
 
 93 THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 ' The one sitting opposite the cox, with the 
 dark hair on his forehead ?' said Dorothy 
 Piggott breathlessly. 
 
 * Yes, stroke, next to the cox. Jack rows 
 five ; see, doesn't he row splendid ?' 
 
 Miss Piggott declined to admire Jack ; she 
 didn't even look at him. She had only eyes 
 for one man in the boat — the man with the 
 long black hair that wanted cutting dread- 
 
 fully- 
 
 'Easy — forward all — are you ready? — 
 paddle !' sings out the little cox, and the 
 boat slips along with the rhythmical dip 
 of the oars — but not before stroke has 
 caught Miss Piggott's eye, and has raised 
 his cap to her. She is quite sure it is to 
 her. 
 
 c It would be ever so much nicer to have a 
 man to coach us than a woman,' she says as 
 they walk quickly back along the towpath, 
 and there is more colour in her face than
 
 ON THE CAM 99 
 
 Molly has ever seen there before, and her eyes 
 are not at all absent. 
 
 On Midsummer Common Jack, who had 
 been to his boathouse, and changed, and had 
 his bath, and been rubbed down, and was 
 equipped like any other athletic Christian — 
 not in those indecent ' shorts,' in which not 
 even a sister would be seen walking with him 
 — overtook them. 
 
 He was not alone. ^Teil Brackenbury was 
 with him, and Molly could do no less than 
 introduce him to Dorothy Piggott ; and then 
 — she never knew how it came about — she 
 found herself walking on a long way in 
 advance talking to Jack, and Dorothy was 
 lingering behind with Mr. Brackenbury. 
 
 ' Oh, Jack, it was so good of you to per- 
 suade papa ! I should have broken my heart 
 if he hadn't let me come up/ 
 
 ' Well, you must do a good turn for me, 
 Molly, some clay. You've got me out of a 
 
 7—2
 
 ioo THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 good many scrapes, and — and you may have 
 to get me out of another before long.' 
 
 ' Oh, Jack, as if I wouldn't do anything in 
 the world for you ! Whenever you are in 
 trouble, of course I should help you. Where- 
 ever else should you go for help but to me ? 
 It would be no use going to Adela.' 
 
 ' No,' said Jack moodily ; ' it would be no 
 use going to Adela.' 
 
 Dorothy Piggott must have forgotten all 
 about the problems that were awaiting her — 
 that her soul was pining for half an hour ago. 
 Molly and Jack waited for her at the posts at 
 the end of the common, by Jesus Lane, quite 
 five minutes, while she loitered along beside 
 Mr. Brackenbury. 
 
 4 I think you'll have to wait for your friend, 
 Molly,' said Jack ruefully. It was getting 
 late, and he was starving after that long pull 
 on the river. ' I don't think it would do for 
 her to walk through Cambridge with that —
 
 ON THE CAM 101 
 
 that fellow Brackenbury; Miss Godolphin 
 might object.' 
 
 He was going to say, ' that devil Bracken- 
 bury ;' but he stopped himself in time. 
 
 1 Wherever have you been ?' Adela asked 
 her sister when they got back to Xewnham. 
 1 Aunt Gray has been waiting here for you 
 for hours ; she wanted vou to g;o with her to 
 choose a dinner-gown for May week.' 
 
 1 Oh, Adela, why didn't you offer to go ? 
 She'll buy the awfullest thing that was ever 
 seen, and we shall have to go about with her 
 in it !' 
 
 ' I go ! I don't know anything about gowns,' 
 said Adela, in a most superior way. 
 
 ' Oh, don't you ? You spent all the vaca- 
 tion upon that gown you've got on, and tried 
 it on seven times in one day to my know- 
 ledge. ' 
 
 1 Molly !' 
 
 There were a lot of girls looking on, for
 
 io2 THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 they were going into the Hall to dinner, and 
 it was unkind of Molly to expose her sister's 
 weakness before her fellow -students, who had 
 left the vanities of their sex far behind. 
 
 ' Molly !' Adela uttered but one word, but 
 she shot out such a glance from her bright 
 eyes that, if a look could have slain, Molly 
 would have had no occasion to go in to dinner. 
 
 ' It wasn't worth the time you wasted on it, 
 dear,' said Molly sweetly ; ' it fits shockingly 
 behind. There is a wrinkle right across the 
 back/ 
 
 With this Parthian dart Molly disappeared 
 into the Hall, with a much better appetite for 
 her dinner.
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE DON JUAN OF ST. STEPHEN'S. 
 
 ' What a slave one is made 
 To another man's sisters ! ; 
 
 The Junior Dean knew all about the walk 
 on the towpath on that sweet sunshiny 
 afternoon. 
 
 The coach of the St. Stephen's boat was Iris 
 particular friend, and he had a grudge against 
 the girls for distracting the attention of the 
 crew T while he w T as shouting himself hoarse on 
 the bank. 
 
 Moreover, he had seen the girls crossing the 
 Common with the two men on their way 
 home. He knew the St. Stejmen's blazer ever 
 so far off, and he recognised the girls : but he
 
 104 THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 wasn't near enough to see how they had 
 paired. He thought it right to warn Fel- 
 lowes, knowing how he stood with Molly, 
 and he had dropped in casually after Hall 
 just to give him a hint. 
 
 The big, bullyragging giant of a fellow, 
 who looked so formidable on the bank shout- 
 ing to the crew, was quite a different person 
 when he dropped into the Junior Dean's 
 rooms arrayed in a cap and gown. 
 
 There were ribbons to his gown, and the 
 corners of his cap were intact, and the tassel 
 that surmounted it had not been shorn of its 
 dimensions, and these were each indications 
 that he had already attained the degree of 
 B.A. 
 
 ' I was just going to the Union/ he 
 explained, ' but I dropped in to see if there 
 was any coffee going ;' and he looked in- 
 quiringly round in search of the cup that 
 does not always cheer.
 
 THE DON JUAN OF ST. STEPHEN'S 105 
 
 There was no appearance of coffee, and the 
 Junior Dean was reading ; but he got up and 
 offered to light his spirit-kettle and make 
 some coffee in a minute. He struck a match, 
 and the spirit blazed up cheerfully as he spoke. 
 
 A workman's tools may generally be said 
 to bear a distant resemblance to their owner. 
 If they are blunt and dull at the edge, depend 
 upon it he is dull too. 
 
 The Junior Dean's kettle was like himself ; 
 it was a most dependable kettle. It never 
 gave false alarms and began to sing on the 
 slightest provocation, or pretended it was 
 boiling when it wasn't. 
 
 ' Anything going on at the Union ?' asked 
 the Junior Dean while they were waiting for 
 the virtuous kettle. 
 
 1 Xothing particular : a debate on the Irish 
 Question. I'm going to speak, I believe.' 
 
 ' Oh, I didn't know that you went in for 
 politics.'
 
 io6 THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 ' No, I don't, as a rule. The National side's 
 very weak and they've asked me to support 
 em. 
 ' I thought you were the other side ?' 
 1 So I am,' said the coach with a laugh ; 
 1 but I always take the side that's opposed to 
 my prejudices. It's the only way to get at 
 an argument. ' 
 
 o 
 
 4 1 don't think I could do that,' said the 
 Junior Dean gravely ; ' I don't think I could 
 seriously say what I didn't mean ; I couldn't 
 stand up and mislead people with false 
 reasoning.' 
 
 4 Do you never mislead people, Fellowes, 
 with specious reasoning ? Do you believe 
 all that you preach and teach ?' 
 
 The Junior Dean's face turned very white, 
 and there was a quiver about his lips. 
 
 4 Yes,' he said presently, looking up, 
 4 thank God, I believe all that I preach.' 
 
 Then the coach suddenly remembered the
 
 THE DON JUAN OF ST. STEPHEN'S 107 
 
 girl lie had seen on the bank, the girl he had 
 seen crossing the common with Brackenbury 
 — girls never walk by choice with their 
 brothers, and he reasoned that she would 
 most certainly walk with Brackenbury — and 
 he felt sorry for the Junior Dean. 
 
 ( Hang it!' he said involuntarily, 4 she isn't 
 half o;ood enough for him.' 
 
 The kettle was boiling now, and Mr. 
 Fellowes made the coffee, and brought out 
 a little tray with the cups and saucers, and 
 a tin of biscuits. He had everything at hand, 
 and in such perfect order that he could find 
 anything in a moment. 
 
 1 How's the boat orettino; n ?' he asked as 
 he poured out the coffee. 
 
 ' Can't say much about it,' said the coach 
 gloomily. ( It has the makings of a capital 
 crew, but that fellow Brackenbury won't 
 train, and he's spoiling the morale of the 
 rest.'
 
 io8 THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 'Ah! pity — a great pity! a spell of regular 
 training would do him a world of good/ 
 
 The Junior Dean sighed as he spoke and 
 looked thoughtfully into his teacup, or, rather, 
 his coffee-cup. Mr. Brackenbury was the 
 bete noire of St. Stephen's, and had vexed 
 the souls of the Dean and the Junior Dean 
 every term since he had been up. He was 
 going in for his General now in a few weeks, 
 and it was patent to everyone in the college 
 that he didn't work an hour a day ; that he 
 was wasting his time and ruining his chance 
 of taking anything like a place ; and that he 
 was keeping other men from working, Jack 
 Gray among them. 
 
 Perhaps this is why the Junior Dean 
 sighed. He was sorry for Jack. He didn't 
 approve of the intimacy between this black 
 sheep and his future brother-in-law. 
 
 ' By the way, I saw Miss Gray on the tow- 
 path,' said coach awkwardly. ' She walked
 
 THE DON JUAN OF ST. STEPHENS 109 
 
 back with her brother and Brackenbury across 
 the common.' 
 
 He grew quite hot after he had said it. 
 What right had he to be spying upon another 
 man's sweetheart, and telling tales of her ? 
 It wasn't a chivalrous thing to do ; he was 
 quite ashamed of himself a moment after. 
 
 'Ah!' said Fellowes, flashing up like a 
 peony, as if he couldn't hear the name of the 
 girl he loved mentioned without flaming up 
 in that ridiculous manner. ' Ah ! with — with 
 Mr. Brackenbury, did you say?' 
 
 ' And her brother,' added the coach ; he 
 had forgotten all about the other girl in his 
 hurry to explain matters. 'She'd been watch- 
 ing the crews practising.' 
 
 ' Yes, of course — Jack's in the boat,' said 
 the Junior Dean nervously. 
 
 ' Rows five,' said coach ; ' no more coffee, 
 thanks.' And then, thinking he had done quite 
 enough mischief, he remembers that he's over-
 
 no THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 due at the Union, and gets up hurriedly and 
 goes away. 
 
 The next morning after chapel, when the 
 Junior Dean came in to breakfast, his gyp 
 came in as usual for instructions. 
 
 ' Curi's thing happened last night, sir, to 
 one of our gentlemen/, said the gyp, while he 
 waited for a note Mr. Fellowes was writing. 
 
 1 Yes,' said the Junior Dean absently. 
 
 ' There's a shady sort of house in the New- 
 market Road, sir, what the Proctors have 
 a-kep' their hi upon for months. They've never 
 been able to catch any gentlemen a-going in, 
 but last night, sir, they caught a St. Stephen's 
 man.' 
 
 ' Ye-es,' said the Junior Dean absently. 
 
 He hadn't been attending to what the man 
 said ; what interest had he in a shady house 
 in the Newmarket Road ? 
 
 1 They seed him a-going in, and they kep' 
 a watch for him a- coming out, an he never
 
 THE DON JUAN OF ST. STEPHEN'S in 
 
 came out all night, an' this morning he were 
 asleep in his bed when the bull-clog went in 
 as innercent as a hangel. It were Mr. 
 Brackenbury, sir.' 
 
 1 Mr. Brackenbury ?' 
 
 The Junior Dean was all attention. He 
 never encouraged the gyp to gossip or retail 
 the news of the college, but at the mention 
 of Brackenbury' s name he dropped the letter 
 he was blotting and listened. 
 
 ' He's a cute one, that Mr. Brackenbury, sir. 
 He's a-done that trick before. He got in a 
 row last term, an the Proctor an' the bull- 
 dogs could all swear to him a-being there ; but 
 he gave 'em the slip, an' when they sent over 
 to him the next morning, the porter at the 
 gate swore he'd a-come in before ten, an' 
 hadn't been out again all the night. He's a 
 cute one, sir, that Mr. Brackenbury. He's 
 up to a thing or two.' 
 
 ' There must have been some mistake/ said
 
 ii2 THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 the Junior Dean feebly ; 4 the Proctors may 
 have been mistaken.' 
 
 ' Not they, sir ; they've no chance against 
 Mr. Brackenbury !' And the gyp went off 
 chuckling at this latest feat of the Don Juan 
 of St. Stephen's. 
 
 1 No chance against Mr. Brackenbury !' 
 repeated the Junior Dean, as he sat down to 
 his breakfast. 
 
 It was a very wholesome breakfast ; it 
 consisted of a dish of oatmeal porridge and a 
 cup of cocoa. He drank the cocoa, but he 
 pushed aside the porridge untasted. ' No !' 
 he murmured to himself thoughtfully — c no 
 chance against Mr. Brackenbury !' 
 
 Neil Brackenbury was as good as his word. 
 He tubbed Dorothy Piggott and Molly in the 
 Backs the very next day. 
 
 He met them at the Anchor boat-house 
 when they came back from lecture ; at least, 
 Dorothy had been to a lecture, of which 

 
 THE DON JUAN OF ST. STEPHEN'S 113 
 
 Molly would not have understood a single 
 word had she gone, and she met her at the 
 Anchor boat-house by appointment. It had all 
 been arranged in that walk across Midsummer 
 Common the previous night. Mr. Bracken - 
 bury had not been to a lecture, but that was 
 not an unusual thing, as he was not in the 
 habit of attending lectures. It was past noon 
 when he met the girls, and he had just 
 finished his breakfast, 
 
 He had not been in bed until daylight, 
 which accounted for certain dark lines under 
 his eyes. It was a mere shadow, but it made 
 him look interesting — at least, Dorothy 
 Piggott thought so, and she had an excel- 
 lent opportunity of studying his countenance 
 as she sat opposite to him in the boat. 
 
 Jack, who had promised to be at the boat- 
 house at twelve o'clock, didn't turn up. so Mr. 
 Brackenbury had the pleasure of tubbing the 
 girls unaided. They loitered about between 
 
 vol. 1. 8
 
 1 14 THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 the college bridges for half an hour, and then 
 Molly proposed that they should row up the 
 Backs and look for Jack. 
 
 She had no idea that she was doing any- 
 thing very shocking. She had often been on 
 the river before with her brother, she paddling 
 and Jack extended at the bottom of the boat. 
 Mr. Brackenbury wasn't exactly extended, 
 though he was very much at his ease, and 
 steering while the girls rowed. 
 
 It would be rather difficult to picture a 
 handsomer couple than he and Molly looked 
 in the April sunshine. 
 
 The exercise had brought the delightful 
 roses of youth full-blown into her cheeks, and 
 brightened her eyes — which was quite un- 
 necessary — and ruffled her hair, and loosened 
 all the hairpins, so that it was in momentary 
 danger of coming down ! 
 
 She had taken off her outer jacket, and her 
 srloves, and her tie ; and she wore a white
 
 THE DON JUAN OF ST. STEPHEN'S 115 
 
 flimsy body beneath that showed every line 
 and curve of her delightful figure, as she 
 swung backwards and forwards with the 
 measured stroke of the oars. 
 
 She was rowing in fine style — stroke to 
 Dorothy Piggott's bow. Dorothy had 
 loosened her things, but she hadn't taken 
 them off. She wasn't thinking of herself at 
 all. Her eyes were fixed on the face of the 
 cox ; it was necessary to look at him to 
 attend to his instructions. 
 
 ' Keep your head up, bow,' he was saying ; 
 1 keep your shoulders back — straighten your 
 arms — keep it going !' 
 
 Perhaps it was the instructions he was 
 shouting to the girls attracted the attention of 
 the people loitering on the college bridges. 
 Men hurrying back from lectures paused and 
 looked down ; and women put up their eye- 
 glasses to scrutinize the rowers, and recognised 
 Miss Piggott, and forthwith they went round 
 
 8—2
 
 1 1 6 THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 to all the tea-tables in Cambridge, and cir- 
 culated a report that Newnham was going to 
 have a boat on the river. 
 
 The Junior Dean, crossing the Bridge of 
 Sighs, saw some men looking down ; they 
 laughed and went on, and he was going on, 
 too, when he heard a voice shouting instruc- 
 tions in the river below. 
 
 fie thought he knew the voice — ' Swing 
 out, stroke !' — but he didn't stop. 
 
 Then he heard a laugh, a fresh, rippling 
 girl's laugh, and he stopped, and looked down. 
 
 He couldn't be mistaken in the laugh, but 
 he thought his eyes must have deceived him. 
 It couldn't be Mary Gray, the woman he was 
 going to marry — the woman he thanked 
 God ever}^ day for making so pure and true 
 and beautiful, this Naiad with flushed cheeks 
 and dishevelled hair — the hairpins had given 
 way — who was swinging along with a rapid 
 stroke like a 'Varsity oar.
 
 THE DON JUAN OF ST. STEPHEN'S 117 
 
 To say that his heart was in his mouth did 
 not express the situation. He wasn't at all 
 sure that it was a useless piece of mechanism, 
 and had stopped altogether. He didn't see the 
 other girl ; he had no eyes for anybody but 
 Molly and her companion. 
 
 She was smiling at him as she had never 
 smiled at the Junior Dean ; and he was 
 flaunting this easy victory of his — this latest 
 of his conquests — before the eyes of all Cam- 
 bridge. 
 
 Oh, it was too shocking ! 
 
 Keith Fellowes limped sadly away with a 
 whitened face and a dreadful sinking at heart. 
 He had heard all about that escapade of Neil 
 Brackenburv's overnight. The Proctors hadn't 
 been mistaken in their man ; they had seen him 
 go into that shady house in the Newmarket 
 Road, and he certainly had not come out all 
 night ; and in the morning he was sleeping 
 calmly in his own bed at St. Stephen's, and
 
 u8 THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 the porter at the gate was ready to take an 
 oath that he hadn't come in after ten 
 o'clock. 
 
 The Junior Dean had been talking the 
 matter over with the Dean and the tutor and 
 the Senior Proctor, and a trap had been laid 
 to catch Mr. Brack enhury when he played 
 that little game again. 
 
 He was quite indifferent to the devices that 
 Mr. Brackenbury resorted to for passing the 
 time — he had given him up long ago ; every- 
 body in St. Stephen's had given him up — and 
 it did not personally affect him whether he 
 had given the Proctors the slip or not — 
 that was their look-out — but it made him 
 flush with shame and anger when he remem- 
 bered, as he limped through the cloisters of 
 St. John's, how this man had come from some 
 disgraceful orgie into the pure presence of the 
 woman he loved. 
 
 Should he write to Molly and remonstrate ?
 
 THE DON JUAN OF ST. STEPHEN'S 119 
 
 he asked himself; and then he sat down to his 
 writing-table and began to write a letter. 
 
 He began to write quite a dozen, and he 
 tore them up much faster than he wrote them ; 
 and then, having wasted a oreat deal of 
 stationery — and he always used dainty note- 
 paper, with the college arms impressed in 
 glowing colours, when he wrote to Molly — he 
 decided he wouldn't write; he would wait 
 until to-morrow, when he should see her at 
 Mrs. Gray's, and he would remonstrate. 
 
 He couldn't very well remonstrate before 
 a room full of people. It was Mrs. Gray's 
 first ' at home ' for the term, and the room 
 was full. He had quite enough to do to 
 limp about with the cake. Molly wouldn't 
 trust him with the tea ; she knew he would 
 spill it. 
 
 There was some tennis after tea, and he sat 
 out under the shrubs catching a cold, waiting 
 for a chance to speak to her, until it was time
 
 120 THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 for chapel, and then he had to hurry away 
 with the remonstrance he had been rehearsing 
 all day unspoken. 
 
 Mr. Brackenbury, he remarked, as he sat at 
 the high table, was dining in Hall ; he very 
 seldom dined in Hall. He had a dinner served 
 in his own or some other man's rooms, at all 
 sorts of capricious hours. He was dining to- 
 day with the crew of the college boat, and 
 after the dinner he got up and w r ent out with 
 the rest. 
 
 The Junior Dean didn't go straight to his 
 rooms after Hall. It was still light, and there 
 was such a delightful glow on the water, and 
 over the trees in the Backs, that he strolled 
 out upon the bridge and watched the changing 
 colours of the sunset. 
 
 The lilacs were in bloom, and the tasselled 
 bunches of laburnum hung over the river from 
 the Fellows' garden, and the rooks were caw- 
 ing overhead, and there was a delicious softness
 
 THE DON JUAN OF ST. STEPHEN'S 121 
 
 and sweetness in the air that could not be 
 resisted, and instead of groins: back to his 
 lonely rooms the Junior Dean crossed the 
 bridge, and wandered amid the leafy stillness 
 of the Backs. 
 
 The dusk had fallen when he came back : 
 he did not meet many men in his walk. He 
 encountered Molly's brother Jack, and another 
 undergraduate, Mr. Brackenbury, and he re- 
 turned their salute stiffly and came back at 
 once. He was only just in time to return by 
 the college entrance in the Backs. He met 
 Jack and his friend going out, and he came in 
 after they had passed through, and the gate 
 was closed and locked behind him. 
 
 When he got into the court and was turning 
 into his own staircase he met the tutor. 
 
 ' We are going to lay a little trap for Mr. 
 Brackenbury to-night, ' said the tutor, rubbing 
 his hands. ' Have you seen him since 
 Hall ?'
 
 122 THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 ' Yes; I have just seen him in the Backs. 
 He went out by the outer gate.' 
 
 'Whew!' said the tutor with a knowing 
 look ; l that's his little game, is it ? Do you 
 know whether the gate is locked ?' 
 
 k Yes ; the janitor locked it after him.' 
 
 ' All right,' said the tutor, ' now I think we 
 shall catch him ;' and he hurried off, smiling 
 benignly, to the college gate, and held a 
 whispered conversation with the porter at the 
 lodge. 
 
 According to his instructions, the porter 
 of St. Stephen's waited up all night for 
 Mr. Brackenbury — there had been nothing- 
 said about Molly's brother — but Mr. Bracken- 
 bury had not passed through the gate, and at 
 daylight he crept softly up the staircase and 
 tapped at the tutor's door. 
 
 ' He's not a-come in, sir,' said the porter, in 
 a melodramatic whisper, holding the door 
 ajar.
 
 THE DON JUAN OF ST. STEPHEN'S 123 
 
 ' No ?' said the tutor. ' Bless me, you don't 
 say so !' 
 
 ' Xo, sir, I've a- waited up myself. I haven't 
 trusted Jones ; an' I've brought away the key 
 of the gate with me, so he can't get in, if he 
 should happen to come, till I get back.' 
 
 ' Wait a minute, Robinson,' said the tutor, 
 and the man heard him moving about, as if he 
 were getting into his clothes. 
 
 Presently he appeared on the staircase, in a 
 most disreputable condition for a college Don. 
 He had slipped hastily into his clothes, with- 
 out paying any heed to such minor details as 
 buttons or braces, and, as a matter of habit, he 
 had slipped on his cap and gown. 
 
 In his soft bedroom slippers he stole noise- 
 lessly clown the staircase, and across the court, 
 where the sun was shining on the grass, and 
 up a staircase on the other side — up three 
 flights of stairs to the garrets on the top, 
 a narrow staircase, surmounted by a narrow
 
 124 THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 landing, with a lean-to roof, and lighted by a 
 little window that looked out on the gutter. 
 Over the door, at the top of the stairs, was a 
 name painted in white letters — 
 
 * Brackenbury.' 
 
 The oak outer door was sported, and the 
 janitor, producing a bunch of keys from 
 his pocket, proceeded quietly to try "first 
 one and then the other, until he found one to 
 open the door. 
 
 The oak yielded to persuasion, and the 
 tutor softly entered the room. There was 
 a pungent odour of tobacco in the room, so 
 strong that he very nearly sneezed, and there 
 were glasses and a liqueur-case on the table. 
 He took a rapid survey of the room, and stole 
 noiselessly over to the inner door, which was 
 ajar. He pushed it softly open, and there, 
 sleeping sweetly, like an infant, with his arms 
 thrown above his head, and his long black hair 
 falling over the pillow, was Mr. Brackenbury.
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE DERBY DAY. 
 
 How did he get in ? 
 
 This was a question that exercised the great 
 intellects of St. Stephen's for the whole of the 
 following week. 
 
 The college outlets and inlets were all care- 
 fully overhauled. There wasn't a door, or a 
 window, or a gate, or a wall, or a corner, in St. 
 Stephen's, that wasn't examined. There were 
 fresh spikes set up over the gate that led into 
 the Backs ; there were extra bars added to 
 some of the lower windows ; there was a fearful 
 ckevaux de frise arrangement of sharp-pointed 
 spikes stuck up at a hitherto unguarded corner.
 
 126 THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 Everything that human ingenuity could devise 
 to rip, rend, torture, and maliciously maim any 
 enterprising undergraduate who might seek 
 to enter the fold by any other way than the 
 gate was set up by order of the college autho- 
 rities. 
 
 The college itself, when these formidable 
 precautions : were completed, presented the 
 appearance of being in a state of siege. The 
 men who kept in the lower rooms of the outer 
 wing looked out upon the world between 
 their bars like prisoners in a cage. 
 
 The bars before the windows were so close 
 together that with no amount of flattening 
 could a man possibly squeeze through. There 
 was one favourite corner which adventurous 
 spirits had successfully scaled — a man was 
 impaled there one night on a very uncomfort- 
 able spike pointed at the end. They used to 
 throw a saddle over the spikes after that. A 
 saddle in a man's room begets suspicion ; but
 
 THE DERBY DAY 127 
 
 there was no saddle in Mr. Braekenbury's 
 
 room, and that corner had received particular 
 attention at the hands of the college black- 
 smith. 
 
 The undergraduates of St. Stephen's looked 
 on these warlike preparations with wondering 
 awe. They were not a very rowdy set of 
 men ; they were generally content to be in 
 college before midnight, and paid their gate- 
 fines in a becoming spirit of meekness and 
 resignation. The gate -fines of the men of 
 St. Stephen's were not particularly heavy. 
 After ten, one penny ; after eleven, sixpence ; 
 and after midnight, half-a-crown, with a 
 certainty of being hauled up by the Dean, and 
 recpaested to explain the cause of their being 
 detained to that unseemly hour, and possibly 
 to state where and with whom they had been. 
 
 The men of St. Stephen's generally were 
 able to account for their time to the satis- 
 faction of the Dean. They were frequently
 
 128 THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 up reading with other men, especially near 
 the time of examinations. It would not have 
 done, however, for Mr. Brackenbury to have 
 pleaded this as an excuse. 
 
 When the armament of the college was 
 complete, and every available wall and door and 
 gate and window was a wonder to behold, the 
 Dons relaxed their vigilance. 
 
 ' 1 don't think Mr. Brackenbury will get 
 over that,' said the senior tutor, rubbing his 
 hands as he surveyed a particularly wicked- 
 looking arrangement of spikes which had been 
 recently set up. 
 
 i I should be sorry if he did,' said the Dean. 
 * I'm afraid the college would be indicted for 
 manslaughter.' 
 
 The tutor smiled, and the Dean smiled — 
 and Mr. Brackenbury, when he with a pleasant 
 twinkle in his eye surveyed the arrangement, 
 smiled too. 
 
 The college authorities were confident of
 
 THE DERBY DAY 129 
 
 success. They watched the gate returns for 
 the next week or two with much interest. 
 Mr. Brackenbury had been frequently late, 
 and the usual fines had been registered against 
 him; but he had not been out after midnight. 
 He had run it pretty close several times, but 
 had managed to get in before the clock of 
 Great St. Mary's had finished striking. 
 
 The busy weeks wore on, the long bright 
 days and the short summer nights, and the 
 college authorities were so full of the examina- 
 tions that they had somewhat relaxed their 
 vigilance. The return of the Derby Day, 
 however, revived all their suspicions. They 
 had a very wholesome rule of not granting 
 exeats on that day ; and it was remarkable 
 how many telegrams were received on that 
 auspicious morning from relatives at a dis- 
 tance — maiden aunts generally — by under- 
 graduates to whom exeats had been refused, 
 requesting their immediate presence. 
 
 vol. 1. 9
 
 130 THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 1 I'm very sorry for your aunt's illness, 
 Mr. Brown/ said the senior tutor in a most 
 unfeeling way, to a man who came to him 
 with an open telegram in his hand; 'but she 
 will really have to wait to see you till to- 
 morrow !' 
 
 Mr. Brackenbury*did not apply for an exeat, 
 and he did not receive a telegram from his 
 maiden aunt; but he breakfasted some hours 
 earlier than usual, and he was not seen loung- 
 ing about the courts in flannels until it was 
 time to go down to the boats, as was his 
 custom. In fact, nobody saw him all day. 
 
 The Junior Dean went up the river in a 
 canoe in the afternoon, and he looked out for 
 the college boat. He hadn't seen the crew 
 
 practising lately, and he waited about until 
 
 quite late on the chance of seeing it. 
 
 As he crossed Midsummer Common the 
 
 coach of St. Stephen's overtook him: he, too, 
 
 had been out on the river.
 
 THE DERBY DAY 131 
 
 4 What's become of the boat?' asked the 
 Junior Dean. 
 
 ' Oh, half of the crew are away, so it hasn't 
 been out to-day !' 
 
 ' Away ? I didn't know any of the men 
 were away, except Mr. Brown, and he really 
 
 has an ' (' an aunt,' he was going to say; 
 
 but he saw a smile ready in the corner of 
 coach's eyes, and he said ' a relative ' instead) 
 — a near relative, seriously ill. He had three 
 telegrams this morning; and he came to me 
 in great trouble, and I begged his tutor to let 
 him go!' 
 
 The coach of St. Stephen's, who knew Mr. 
 Brown of old, whistled; but he didn't smile. 
 He wouldn't have hurt the Junior Dean's 
 feelings for the world. 
 
 4 Re — ally!' he said; ' and how about the 
 rest?' 
 
 ' Oh, I can't say ! I know nothing of 
 any of them, except Mr. Brown; and — 
 
 9—2
 
 i 3 2 THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 and I was really sorry for his distress, poor 
 fellow !' 
 
 He declined to offer an opinion about Mr. 
 Bracken bury. 
 
 On his way back to his college, he met the 
 wife of the tutor of Clare, who asked him to 
 come in to tennis in the evening, after Hall, 
 and bring Jack with him. Molly and her 
 friend Dorothy Piggott were coming. 
 
 ' I have asked Aclela, too, of course,' said 
 Mrs. Gray; £ but she never has a minute to 
 spare for her friends. She will not spare a 
 minute from her work. I suppose she is 
 going to be senior classic/ 
 
 Mrs. Gray had no patience with her eider 
 niece : it was all very well for a girl to come 
 to Xewnham to enjoy herself, like Molly; but 
 as for working in that absurd way that Adela 
 was doing, she had no patience with her; and 
 she spoke of her place in the Tripos with 
 amiable scorn. She didn't believe in Adela.
 
 THE DERBY DAY 133 
 
 ' She is sure to take a high place,' the 
 Junior Dean hastened to say. He was very 
 fond of Adela — her eyes were nearly as bright 
 as Molly's. ' Dr. Boultby is coaching her. 
 She cannot fail to do well.' 
 
 Mrs. Gray gave an aggressive sniff, and 
 went her way : ' You will be sure to bring 
 Jack/ she called after him, ' as we are short of 
 men.' 
 
 The Junior Dean went to Jack's rooms at 
 once. Jack was not there, and his lunch was 
 still spread on the table, untasted ; and there 
 was a letter, bearing the post-mark of Silver- 
 ton, on the table, in the handwriting of his 
 father, that could only have arrived by the 
 eleven o'clock post. 
 
 By all these signs the Junior Dean gathered 
 that Jack had not been in his rooms since 
 breakfast. He wrote a few lines in pencil, and 
 left it on the table, asking Jack to go with 
 him to Mrs. Gray's after Hall.
 
 i 3 4 THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 He didn't expect to see Mary Gray's brother 
 in chapel — he had only put in one or two 
 attendances this term — but he looked round 
 for him nevertheless. There were very lew 
 men present, and Jack was not among them. 
 He was not in Hall either, where the boating 
 men dined together at the end of one of the 
 long tables. He stopped, as he went up 
 through the Hall to the high table, to ask one 
 of the crew if he had seen Mr. Gray. 
 
 Nobody had seen him during the day, and 
 he was not in his rooms when the Junior 
 Dean looked in on his way to Mrs. Gray's. 
 The lunch was removed, but his pencilled 
 note and the unopened letter from home were 
 still on the table. 
 
 A pang — no, not of suspicion — of mild 
 regret shot through the mind of Molly's lover 
 as he limped through the court on the way to 
 Mrs. Gray's. He had to explain to that lady 
 that he had been unable to find Jack.
 
 THE DERBY DAY 135 
 
 1 1 expect he has gone to the Derby,' she 
 said sharply ; ' a lot of our men have gone. 
 I cannot think what the tutors are about to 
 give them exeats on the Derby Day.' 
 
 Then the Junior Dean remembered with a 
 spasm — for Molly was looking at him a little 
 white and anxious — that Jack hadn't asked 
 for an exeat. 
 
 Had he gone to the Derby with Mr. 
 Brack enbury ? 
 
 That anxious look on her bright face 
 seemed a reproach to him : he hadn't been 
 looking after Jack, he told himself, lately. 
 Looking after Jack implied looking after Mr. 
 Brackenbury, and he had a very decided 
 aversion to that unthankful task. Still, he 
 would look more after Jack in the future, he 
 told himself, and he told Molly when he got 
 a chance of speaking to her. 
 
 He had had so few chances of speaking to 
 her alone this term. There was always
 
 136 THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 another girl with her when he walked back 
 with her from King's on Sunday afternoons ; 
 and at Mrs. Gray's Wednesdays Molly always 
 presided at the tea-table, and dispensed tea and 
 smiles to her aunt's guests. 
 
 He had been to every Wednesday c at 
 home ' this term, and he had never got five 
 minutes' uninterrupted conversation with her. 
 The remonstrance was still unspoken ; and 
 he hadn't courage to write a letter. It had 
 been on his mind all the term, and he had 
 been fuming and fretting while Molly went 
 on her thoughtless way unchecked. He 
 objected strongly to her intimacy with Mr. 
 Brackenbury — ' strongly,' indeed, was hardly 
 the word — but he had unbounded faith in her 
 innate purity that no contact with an un- 
 worthy object could sully. Besides, was he 
 not always praying for her ? 
 
 Miss Piggott was at Mrs. Gray's with her 
 friend on this particular night. She had been
 
 THE DERBY DAY 137 
 
 working dreadfully hard lately, and she was 
 looking worn ; but her eyes were softer, and 
 there was more light in them than there used 
 to be, and she took more interest in the game. 
 
 She was the Junior Dean's partner, and she 
 managed that he should have Molly opposite 
 to him in every game. 
 
 He quite loved her for her kindness to 
 Molly. It was the strangest friendship that 
 had sprung up between the two girls, and he 
 couldn't understand it : nobody could under- 
 stand it even among those who knew her best 
 at Newnham. 
 
 Dorothy Piggott had made but few friends 
 during all the three years she had been up, 
 and now, in her last term, she had formed 
 this passionate affection for Mary Gray. 
 Molly would have been nothing at ISTewnham 
 without her. Everybody at that seat of 
 learning snubbed her until Dorothy Piggott 
 took her up.
 
 138 THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 The Junior Dean walked back to Newnham 
 with the girls when the tennis was over, and 
 the soft June twilight was closing in, and 
 then that nice Miss Piggott gave him occasion 
 to love her more. She suddenly remembered 
 that she had left a book at Mrs. Gray's, and 
 she went back to fetch it ; and Molly and her 
 lover promised to walk slowly until she 
 caught them up. 
 
 She need not have exacted the promise, 
 lovers never run — unless, indeed, they run 
 away. 
 
 Oh, how the Junior Dean had yearned for 
 this opportunity ! He had been longing for 
 it all the time he had been hopping about on 
 the tennis-lawn — he played tennis remarkably 
 well, but not with the grace of other men — 
 and he couldn't very well shout all the tender 
 things he wanted to say to his betrothed 
 across the net. 
 
 They wanted exactly the present conditions :
 
 THE DERB Y DA Y 1 39 
 
 solitude, sunset, and the balmy breath of June 
 — and here he was, having gotten his heart's 
 desire, stammering and blushing like a school- 
 boy. 
 
 Molly pouted : a girl doesn't like her lover 
 to lose an opportunity. AVas he never going 
 to begin ? 
 
 ' My darling !' he said under his breath ; 
 and then he remembered that he was going to 
 remonstrate. 
 
 Her colour was coming and going, and 
 her bosom was heaving, and her soft brown 
 lashes — he had no idea they were so long — 
 were veiling the brightness of her eyes. 
 
 Oh, he was really going to make love 
 now ! 
 
 Reading all these delightful signs, he 
 hadn't the heart to remonstrate. He would 
 very much have liked to take her in his 
 arms and kiss her brow, or perhaps her 
 blushing cheeks ; but on a college bridge it
 
 i4o THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 was out of the question ; so he thanked God 
 instead. 
 
 ' I have seen so little of you this term,' he 
 said, ' and you will be going down so soon, 
 and I shall lose you again. Oh, Molly, how 
 can I live a whole three months without 
 you ?' 
 
 ' Couldn't you come down to Silverton to 
 see papa ?' she suggested ; ' I know he would 
 like to see you ; and you ought to know him, 
 and Madge, and Merrylegs, and all the dear 
 things I love. I'm sure you must come 
 down.' 
 
 ' And who's Merrylegs ?' he asked ; he had 
 a faint idea that it might be a rustic adorer. 
 
 ' Oh, it's papa's old gray pony. You must 
 know her ; she follows me about like a child. 
 We have had her as long as I can remember. 
 You will try to come down, Keith ? ? 
 
 ' My darling, I would walk all the way to 
 Silverton to see you if it were possible, but
 
 THE DERBY DAY 141 
 
 I've en^a^ed to take a locum tenens at a water- 
 ing-place in Wales for the vacation. I'm to 
 take sole charge, and to earn fifty pounds 
 instead of spending fifty pounds ; and that 
 will make a hundred pounds towards furnish- 
 ing our little house.' 
 
 He said the last words with just a faint 
 quiver of emotion in his voice. Faint as it 
 was, Molly noticed it. 
 
 ; It will be such a dear little house, Keith,' 
 she said softly. ( It will be ever so small ; 
 we shan't want much furniture.' 
 
 1 Xo ?' he said, looking down into her bright 
 face. 
 
 He felt at that very moment like the birds 
 who were twittering in their nests in the tall 
 trees overhead — as if, with Molly for a mate, 
 he could do without any other furniture. 
 
 ' I'm sure we should never spend a hundred 
 pounds, Keith.' 
 
 1 Xo, darling ? But you would want a lot
 
 142 THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 of things ; saucepans, and — and brooms. 
 My bedmaker runs up a bill of five shillings 
 every term for brooms and — and soap, I 
 believe.' 
 
 ' Oh, Keith, how dirty you must be ! 
 And what a lot of brooms you must get 
 through !' 
 
 Dorothy Piggott came up as they were 
 laughing merrily over the brooms. They had 
 had so much to say to each other, and had 
 been pining for an opportunity of saying it ; 
 and now, when the opportunity presented 
 itself, they could talk of nothing but brooms ! 
 
 Molly told Miss Piggott all about the 
 hundred pounds that was to be spent in 
 furnishing that delightful little house. They 
 calculated to a nicety how far it would go, 
 and with the assistance of that great intellect 
 Molly discovered that there would actually be 
 a margin left. 
 
 c You will have a much larger house than
 
 THE DERB Y DAY 143 
 
 I shall, Dolly,' said Mary Gray, when she 
 wished her friend good-night. c And it will 
 take a great deal more than a hundred pounds 
 to furnish it. Mr. Brackenbury belongs to a 
 great family, and is ever so much richer than 
 Keith/ 
 
 1 Oh, Molly, you goose !' exclaimed Miss 
 Piggott, flaming up like a poppy, and beating 
 a hasty retreat into the passage, where she 
 collided with another girl who was flying 
 along in the dark with a tray and a teapot in 
 the accustomed Xewnham fashion. 
 
 The Junior Dean inquired of the porter at 
 the college gate if Mr. Gray had come in, and 
 was told that he hadn't passed through since 
 the gate was closed. He might be in his rooms, 
 he suggested, or in one of the other gentle- 
 men's rooms. He was fond of Jack — every- 
 body was fond of Jack — and he didn't want 
 to get him into trouble. 
 
 There was no light, he saw, in Jack's rooms
 
 144 THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 as he passed, and there was no light in Mr. 
 Brackenbury's rooms, which were on the other 
 side of the quad. He was anxious about 
 Jack for Mary's sake, and he had promised 
 her to look after him. He looked after him 
 so far as to wait up until past twelve o'clock, 
 and then he went across to his staircase and 
 tapped at his door. There was no one there ; 
 and in the dim light the Junior Dean saw the 
 white spot in the middle of the dark cloth that 
 he knew was Mr. Gray's letter. 
 
 Jack had not come back. 
 
 He was not at chapel the following morn- 
 ing, which was not unusual ; but a most 
 unusual thing happened — Mr. Brackenbury 
 was in his seat at chapel. 
 
 The Junior Dean could hardly believe his 
 eyes, and he was speculating all through the 
 service what had brought him there. The 
 senior tutor did not speculate ; he formed his 
 own conclusions, and he glowered at the
 
 THE DERBY DAY 145 
 
 pensive undergraduate under his heavy brows 
 all through the service. 
 
 Mr. Brackenbury was carefully dressed — 
 without any of the signs of haste that were 
 visible in the toilettes of other men who 
 rushed in breathless as the bell ceased ringing. 
 He didn't wear slippers, and his braces were 
 not hanging down below his gown, and his 
 collar was not awry nor his tie missing ; and 
 he was carefully shaved. 
 
 The sweet June sunshine streaming through 
 the chapel window fell full upon his face. He 
 didn't whisper, or lounge, or behave in any 
 unseemly way — he was simply indifferent, 
 kneeling and standing as other men knelt and 
 
 © © 
 
 stood, with that dreamy smile on his face, and 
 that latent twinkle in his eyes, that begat 
 unworthy suspicions in the breasts of the 
 college authorities. 
 
 The senior tutor was raging as he crossed 
 
 © © 
 
 the quad with the Junior Dean after chapel. 
 vol. 1. 10
 
 i 4 6 THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 ' That fellow Brackenbury, sir.' he said, 'has 
 fooled us all again. He was at the Derby 
 yesterday, without an exeat, and he came back 
 after midnight, and he did not come in by the 
 college entrance V 
 
 1 No !' said the Junior Dean, with a strange 
 sickening at his heart — he was thinking of 
 Jack — ' you, you have means of knowing thisf 
 
 ' Mr. Brown, for whom you interceded, 
 returned from visiting his aunt by that late, 
 or rather, early train from town, which was 
 favoured by a great many undergraduates 
 returning from a similar errand. The inter- 
 view must have been an affecting one, as he 
 had to be assisted to the gate by his friends, 
 and the porter put him to bed.' 
 
 ' Dear me !' said the Junior Dean ; ' I'm 
 
 very sorry.' He was thinking of Jack, and 
 
 not of Mr. Brown, all the time ; fortunately 
 
 there had been nothing said about Jack. 
 
 He went over to see him after breakfast ;
 
 THE DERBY DA Y 147 
 
 but he found his oak sported ; and again at 
 noon he paid him a visit with a similar result. 
 Coming back from Jack's rooms, he met Mr. 
 Brown in the quad, looking very limp and 
 pale. 
 
 4 Oh, I am so sorry to hear about your aunt/ 
 said the Junior Dean sympathetically — ' is 
 she no better V 
 
 ' N-o — o, sir ; I — I'm afraid not/ said 
 Brown dejectedly ; and he went on his way 
 looking dreadfully foolish and ashamed. 
 
 ' If he hadn't believed that confounded 
 telegram/ he said to himself as he crossed the 
 court, ' and got me the exeat that Flynt 
 refused, I would have gone on my knees and 
 thanked him !' 
 
 Mr. Brown had dropped two hundred 
 pounds on the Derby. 
 
 He was not the only undergraduate in St. 
 Stephen's who had occasion to rue that un- 
 lucky visit to the Derby. 
 
 10—2
 
 i 4 8 THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 The wrong horse had won. As the right 
 horse never wins, this is not an unusual 
 occurrence. St. Stephens was not the only 
 college in Cambridge where there was wailing 
 and gnashing of teeth ; but the men at St. 
 Stephen's were not rich men, and they could 
 not bear up under their losses with the same 
 complacency as other men. 
 
 ' You'll feel better to-morrow, sir/ Jack's 
 bedinaker had said to him, when she saw him 
 sitting slippered and dejected before an un- 
 tasted breakfast, when she came in to lay his 
 lunch, ' gentlemen always do ; things'll look 
 better to-morrow, sir/ 
 
 ' They couldn't very well look worse,' Jack 
 muttered with a very naughty oath.
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 NEMESIS. 
 
 Molly didn't say a word to Adela about 
 Jack's absence from St. Stephen's on the 
 Derby Day. She had her own reasons for 
 keeping silence. Adela and Jack never got 
 on well together ; and she would be sure to 
 make mischief when she got back to the 
 Rectory. 
 
 All things considered, it was quite as well 
 that Adela was kept in the dark. Molly had 
 a bad night — a troubled, disturbed night, and 
 a wretched dream. It haunted her all the 
 next day; and to get rid of it, she told it
 
 150 THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 to Dorothy Piggott as the)' went in to 
 lunch. 
 
 ' Do you believe in dreams, Dolly V she 
 asked, with just a little tremor in her voice 
 as she asked the foolish question. 
 
 ' Some dreams/ said Dorothy. ' I've often 
 dreamed things that came true — literally 
 true.' 
 
 4 Oh, Dolly!' said Mary Gray, and all her 
 pretty colour left her cheeks. ' Not dreadful 
 dreams? You have never had any dreadful 
 dreams come true?' 
 
 ' Yes, I have. I have had the very dread- 
 fullest dream come true.' 
 
 ' It couldn't be so bad as mine. I dreamt 
 that Jack was drowning. I think it must 
 have been in the Cam, for there were lots of 
 people on the bank; and nobody attempted 
 to help him. I saw him struggling in the 
 water, and I reached out my hand to him, 
 though he was in the middle of the stream,
 
 NEMESIS 151 
 
 and the current was fast carrying him 
 away. Keith was in the crowd, looking on, 
 and I implored him to hold my other hand ; 
 and— and, while I was leaning over the dark 
 water, he let go, and I fell into the river and 
 awoke; but, oh! I shall never forget the 
 look of agony on Jack's face as he drifted 
 away!' 
 
 Molly was so upset by this nightmare that 
 she couldn't eat any lunch — she usually had 
 a very line appetite — and she went off to St. 
 Stephen's directly after. 
 
 She went alone. Dorothy was working 
 hard for her Tripos exam, which was so near; 
 and she would not have taken Adela with her 
 for the world. Besides, Adela wouldn't have 
 gone. 
 
 Jack's oak was not sported, and he growled 
 a surly 'Come in!' when she knocked timidly 
 at his door. She didn't usually knock; but 
 to-day she was nervous, and she paused at the
 
 152 THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 door with a foolish premonitory flutter at her 
 heart, and, to gain time and courage, she 
 knocked. 
 
 Jack was alone; that is to say, no one was 
 visible in the darkened room that looked out 
 into the quad — the blind hadn't been drawn 
 up all day — but, doubtless, Nemesis was not 
 very far off. 
 
 c 0h, it's you!' said Jack ungraciously 
 when Molly entered. 
 
 1 Yes, it's me,' she said; and then she stood- 
 in the doorway, looking at him as he sat in a 
 low chair beside the empty hearth, with his 
 face buried in his hands and his back to the 
 light. 
 
 It was not a cheerful spectacle; and with 
 the memory of her nightmare pressing upon 
 her, Molly's heart sank within her. 
 
 1 What are you keeping the door open for?' 
 said Jack impatiently. ' If you are coming 
 in, come in, and shut the door.'
 
 NEMESIS 153 
 
 Molly shut the door, but she did not come 
 very far into the room. 
 
 k Tell me the truth, Jack,' she said 
 irrelevantly — ' did you go to the Derby 
 yesterday ?' 
 
 ' What the deuce is it to you where I went 
 yesterday V he answered sullenly ; and then 
 he opened a bottle of soda-water and made a 
 great mess over the table, and Molly noticed 
 that his hand trembled as it carried the glass 
 to his lips. 
 
 ' Oh, it's a great deal to me, dear,' she said 
 humbly ; i I shouldn't like you to get into 
 trouble, Jack. Keith called for you after 
 Hall to come to Aunt Gray's with him, and 
 he said you had been away all day.' 
 
 Then Jack apjDlied a very unbecoming 
 monosyllable to his future brother-in-law. 
 
 ' What does Fellowes mean,' he said 
 fiercely, ' by spying upon me ? Let him 
 mind his own business. You had better tell
 
 154 THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 him so, Molly, or I shall. I'm not a school- 
 boy, that I'm to be preached to and kept in 
 order by a puritanical humbug of a Junior 
 Dean.' 
 
 ' Jack !' interrupted Mary Gray, flushing 
 up like a peony at the mention of her lover's 
 name. ' You forget that he has a right to 
 speak to you. He will be your- -brother some 
 day ; he has more right to speak to you, if 
 only for my sake, than anybody/ 
 
 i Brother or no brother, he shall not come 
 preaching to me, or spying upon my actions,' 
 said Jack angrily. 'I don't want to punch 
 his head — he's not a man of my size, and — 
 and a cripple — but if he conies into my rooms 
 preaching to me again, I shall kick him 
 out.' 
 
 ' You will do nothing of the kind, Jack. 
 You don't know what you are saying. It's 
 that abominable brandy you are drinking, 
 nearly neat, too, that's taking away your
 
 NEMESIS 155 
 
 senses. Oh, gracious ! haven't you got any 
 water?' 
 
 There was no more socla- water on the table, 
 and the water -jug was empty. Molly went 
 into the inner room and looked hastily round 
 for the water-bottle. It was Jack's bedroom — 
 a slip of a room partitioned off from the larger 
 room, and with a narrow grated window. 
 The window, which looked out into some 
 court behind, was shut, and the room was 
 dreadfully close and stuffy. Molly went over 
 to it and tried to undo the little leaded case- 
 ment : Jack heard her rattling it, and he 
 shouted out to her to let it alone. 
 
 ' Confound it !' he said impatiently ; ' what 
 do you want to be meddling with my window 
 for ?' 
 
 ' I want to let in some air,' said Molly 
 humbly ; ' the room is dreadfully close.' 
 
 8 Confound the air f he said — only he 
 didn't say i confound.' ' Will you please
 
 156 THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 to let iny windows alone \ and if it's all the 
 same to yon, I'd rather you didn't go knock- 
 ing about my things, and spying about my 
 rooms.' 
 
 * Spying ! Oh, Jack, this is too cruel !' 
 
 Molly came out of Jack's bedroom without 
 the water-bottle she went in to fetch, and she 
 would have burst into tears, but the door 
 opened and Mr. Brackenbury came in. 
 
 4 Oh, I didn't know you were engaged,' he 
 said. 
 
 1 I'm not engaged,' said Jack sullenly, 
 relapsing into his old attitude, and feeling 
 feebly for the brandy-bottle. 
 
 4 1 was just going,' Molly said stiffly, 
 turning to the window to hide her tears and 
 button her glove. 
 
 4 Allow me,' said Mr. Brackenbury 
 gallantly. He buttoned her glove, and he 
 saw that she had been crying, or was going 
 to cry, and he dropped his eyelashes and
 
 NEMESIS 157 
 
 shaded the twinkle in his eyes, and remarked 
 demurely that Jack had been over-training 
 and was below par. 
 
 ' He doesn't look as if he were training 
 now !' said Molly indignantly, flashing an 
 angry glance at Jack, who was emptying the 
 last drop of brandy in the bottle into his glass. 
 
 1 No-o — o,' said Mr. Brackenbury, with a 
 smile playing round his mouth, his small 
 mobile mouth that was as daintily curved and 
 shaven clean as a girl's — ■ not exactly. The 
 fact is, he's broken down. I'll take him for a 
 grind presently, and he'll walk it off. I'll 
 look after him, Miss Gray ; don't }^ou trouble 
 about him ; I promise you I'll look after 
 him.' 
 
 'Oh, if you would!' said Molly. 'You 
 won't let him have any more of that horrible 
 brandy V 
 
 ' I will not let him have another drop, I 
 promise you.'
 
 158 THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 Molly thanked him, and shook hands with 
 him, and went back to Newnham feeling that 
 she had left Jack in the hands of a friend. 
 
 Mr. Brackenbury stood at the window 
 watching her as she crossed the quadrangle, 
 and when she had passed through the college 
 gate, he didn't exactly sigh, but he whistled 
 — he was a very pretty whistler — and turned 
 to the task he had imposed upon himself. 
 
 1 Well,' he said cheerfully, ' have you made 
 ap your mind V 
 
 * No,' said Jack savagely, ' and I'm not 
 likely to.' 
 
 ' Oh yes, you are,' returned his Mentor 
 sweetly ; ' you'll make it up presently. It 
 takes time ; these things always take time. 
 You haven't got used to the situation yet : it 
 has all the charms of novelty. You'll get 
 used to it presently.' 
 
 1 Novelty be hanged !' said Jack ; and then 
 he cursed his fate, and relieved his feel-
 
 NEMESIS 159 
 
 ings with a string of unsanctified mono- 
 syllables. 
 
 Mr. Brackenbury lighted a cigarette, and 
 Avatched him with a slow smile curling the 
 corners of his handsome mouth. 
 
 I You ought to feel better after that,' he 
 remarked pleasantly, when Jack had ex- 
 hausted his vocabulary. i How about writing 
 to the governor?' 
 
 Jack looked up with a stupid, soddened 
 face, but his eyes were gleaming savagely. 
 
 ' Stop that !' he said hoarsely ; ' you know 
 it's no use. AVhy don't you w T rite to the 
 governor — at least, I beg your pardon, to 
 your mother?' 
 
 I I would write to the governor cheerfully 
 enough, if I had one,' said Mr. Brackenbury 
 with a smile ; ' but as to writing to the mater, 
 she's drawn her income already for the next 
 year, to set me up this term ; and she melted 
 down the family plate to pay old Mordecai a
 
 160 THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 little bill of mine at Christmas ; and — and 
 unless she sent me her wearing apparel, her 
 laces and her rings — by Jove ! why shouldn't 
 she send me her rings V 
 
 6 Hang it, man ! you wouldn't sell your 
 mother's rings V said Jack. 
 
 ' Oh, wouldn't I ? They'll be mine some 
 day, and I may as well have them now. It 
 isn't safe for her to go travelling about with 
 all those rings on her fingers. You should 
 see 'em, Gray — right up to the middle joint! 
 Yes, I think they'll be good for fifty or a 
 hundred ; then there'll be only two hundred 
 more for you to raise. Was it pounds or 
 guineas V 
 
 ' Guineas !' said Jack with a groan. ' How 
 the deuce do you think I'm going to raise 
 two hundred ¥ 
 
 ' You don't think the governor would help 
 you V 
 
 ' I wouldn't ask him. He's got as much as
 
 NEMESIS 16 1 
 
 he can do out of that beggarly living to pay 
 for me and the girls here. He would pay it ; 
 but the girls would suffer. They would go 
 down, and he wouldn't let 'em come up again. 
 If he would only take it out of me, it wouldn't 
 matter ; but he always takes it out of the 
 girls.' l 
 
 1 I wish I had someone to suffer for me in 
 that vicarious way,' said Mr. Brackenbury 
 with a laugh. 'By Jove, they'd have a high 
 old time!' 
 
 'Xo,' said Jack moodily, 'I'm not going to 
 ask the governor. I'm not such a shabby 
 beggar as to let him take it out of the girls.' 
 
 ' How about Mordecai V 
 
 i I would rather not go to the Jews.' 
 
 ' Hang it, man, you mustn't be so particular ! 
 Besides, Mordecai isn't a Jew. He's a virtuous 
 Christian, and a deacon, I believe, of a Dis- 
 senting chapel, and a respectable tradesman. 
 He doesn't lend his own money, of course — 
 
 vol. 1. 11
 
 1 62 THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 none of these people lend their own money — 
 but he will lend you his friend's at, well, 
 something like fifty per cent.' 
 
 It was Jack's turn to whistle now. 
 
 1 Fifty per cent. !' he muttered. ' I should 
 never be able to pay back the interest, much 
 less the capital. No, thank you, we'll have 
 nothing to do with Mr. Mordecai.' 
 
 ' As you like, but you won't get it on 
 easier terms. You'll have to ask the governor, 
 after all.' 
 
 ' Hanged if I do !' said Jack. 
 
 ' Well, you'll have to make up your mind 
 by to-morrow. Sleej) over it, my boy ; it'll 
 come easier after you've slept over it.' 
 
 It was the same remark that Jack's bed- 
 maker had made, only she hadn't made it so 
 pleasantly as Mr. Brack enbury. 
 
 His cigarette had burnt itself out, and, after 
 an unavailing attempt to get Jack out into 
 the sunshine, he rose to go.
 
 NEMESIS 163 
 
 1 Stop !' roared Jack after him as he was 
 closing the door, and Mr. Brackenbury put 
 his head in the room again. ' How about the 
 locksmith ?' 
 
 ' Oh, I'd forgotten all about it ; I'll send 
 him in. You'll be here if he comes before 
 Hall ?' 
 
 ' Yes, I'll be here, but there must be no 
 mistake about his coming. It was a deuced 
 near thing just now, and that infernal old 
 bedmaker will be in presently. You'll go 
 at once, Brackenbury ?' 
 
 Jack was very much in earnest, and his 
 soddened face was for a moment grave and 
 anxious. 
 
 1 All right, old man/ said the other with a 
 laugh, ' you needn't be so funky ; I'm not 
 likely to forget.' 
 
 And then Mr. Brackenbury, having taken 
 the precaution to close the outer oak, pro- 
 ceeded to try some curious experiments upon 
 
 11—2
 
 1 64 THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 the lock of the inner door with the assistance 
 of a pocket-knife and a corkscrew, while Jack 
 looked on sullenly from the depths of his low 
 basket-chair. 
 
 Evidently the corkscrew did not produce 
 the desired effect, and Mr. Brackenbury asked 
 his friend to bring him over the poker. Jack 
 couldn't walk very steadily, but he managed 
 to get over to the door, poker in hand, and 
 lounged against the wall with his hands in 
 his pockets, while Mr. Brackenbury with two 
 or three well-directed blows ingeniously 
 destroyed the lock. 
 
 ' There,' he said, surveying his work with 
 satisfaction, ' I think that'll do;' and nodding 
 to Jack, he closed the outer oak and went 
 whistling across the quad. 
 
 The locksmith, with a bag of tools, came 
 during the afternoon ; the job took him so 
 long that he was still there when the bed- 
 maker came in to lay Jack's tea before chapel.
 
 NEMESIS 165 
 
 1 1 didn't know there was anything amiss 
 with your lock, sir,' she remarked ; ( it wasn't 
 so long ago you had a new one/ 
 
 ' The door's been left ajar, I expect/ sug- 
 gested the locksmith, i and slammed to ; see, 
 it won't open or shut.' 
 
 The bedmaker went over and examined the 
 lock suspiciously. It would not open or shut. 
 
 1 It was all right when I was here an hour 
 or two ago,' she muttered to herself, as she 
 shut herself up in her den. ' It were all right 
 then, an 7 there hasn't been a breath of wind 
 to-day. This is the second time that there 
 lock's been out of order this term. There's 
 some devilry in it, or my name's not Bunce; 
 and Mr. Brackenbury's at the bottom of it.'
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 ' A FRIEND.' 
 
 The locksmith came again the next morning 
 while Jack was at breakfast. The lock had 
 been damaged so badly that he had to take 
 it off, and he brought it with him the next 
 morning. 
 
 The bursar of the college happened to be 
 in the lodge when the man passed through 
 with the lock in his hand. He stopped him 
 and asked him where he was going. ' Mr. 
 Gray should have told me,' he said ; ' if his 
 lock was out of order, he should have com- 
 plained to me. He has no right to employ 
 people to do the work of the college.'
 
 'A FRIEXD' 167 
 
 The bedmaker also came in for a reprimand. 
 ' If any of the locks are out of order on 
 your staircase, Mrs. Bunce,' he said, c you 
 must let me know, and not send for trades- 
 people on your own account, and without my 
 permission.' 
 
 'No, sir,' said the bedmaker humbly, 
 dropping a curtsy — she always curtsied to 
 the bursar — ' I'll remember, sir, in future, 
 sir.' 
 
 She didn't tell him anything about the lock 
 having been mended before, and that it was 
 not she, but Mr. Gray, who had sent for the 
 smith. 
 
 'I never tells tales on mv gentlemen/ she 
 remarked when she repeated the conversation 
 to Jack later in the day. ; I alius says. 
 " Yes, sir, certainly, sir." ' 
 
 Oh, rare old bedmaker ! 
 
 Jack felt much better the next morning. 
 His bedmaker was quite right ; a night's
 
 1 68 THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 rest had altered the aspect of things. Besides, 
 he had received a letter from an unknown 
 friend who offered in the most disinterested 
 way to help him out of his difficulty. 
 
 It was written on a card, a nice gilt-edged 
 card, with an address in the West End of 
 London in the corner. 
 
 ' Dear Sir,' it began, 
 
 ' Should you require the loan of a few 
 hundred pounds, I shall be happy to make you 
 an immediate advance on " promissory note " 
 alone, without other suret}^ or security, and shall 
 he glad of a call or a line with your instruc- 
 tions at once, if my services are needed. 
 ' Yours truly, 
 
 * Arthur Friend.' 
 
 Now this was something like a friend ! 
 Mr. Brackenbury came in while Jack was 
 reading his letter. There was. a twinkle in
 
 'A FRIEND' 169 
 
 his eves when they fell on the envelope, with 
 its magnificent monogram, which la)' open on 
 the table. He recognised it, no doubt., for he 
 had just received one like it from the same 
 disinterested friend, and so had many other 
 men in the college, but he didn't say anything 
 about it. 
 
 c How the deuce could the fellow have 
 known that I was hard up?' said Jack, tossing 
 the letter across the table to Mr. Bracken bury. 
 * It — it really seems quite a Providence.' 
 
 Mr. Brackenbury read the letter demurely 
 from beginning to end, as if he had never seen 
 one like it before in his life. 
 
 1 Yes,' he said, ' it does seem like a Provi- 
 dence.' 
 
 ' You see, it isn't as if he had offered to lend 
 me five pounds, or fifty ; but to say a few 
 hundreds, and to let me have it immediately, 
 it's more than I can understand! I wonder 
 how the fellow found out that I was hard up?'
 
 i7o THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 ' A great many men are hard up after the 
 Derby/ said Mr. Brackenbury with a laugh. 
 1 What will you do about it ? You will 
 accept it, of course ?' 
 
 ' Y-e-es, I shall be obliged to accept it. 
 Do you think I had better write to the fellow 
 or go up T 
 
 1 Well, I should write first, and name your 
 sum ; say three hundred, while you are about 
 it, and then you can go up to town, if neces- 
 sary, and bring back the money.' 
 
 ' Three hundred \ I say, old man, that's 
 coming it too strong. One hundred and 
 fifty's my share ; if I can raise that you must 
 raise the other/ 
 
 i With all my heart,' said Mr. Brackenbury 
 lightly. ' The rings '11 bring in a hundred — 
 perhaps a hundred and fifty, and I'll join 
 you in a bill for the rest.' 
 
 ' Rings ? You don't mean, Brackenbury, 
 you've written for your mother's rings ?'
 
 l A FRIEND' 171 
 
 ' Yes, I have/ said Mr. Brackenbury with a 
 low laugh. ' You'll see they'll be here by the 
 next post. I wonder I never thought of 'em 
 before !' 
 
 Mr. Brackenbury was quite right ; a regis- 
 tered packet containing the rings came to him 
 by the next morning's post. 
 
 He brought the packet over to Jack's rooms 
 and opened it on his table. It was quite a 
 bulky packet, for most of the rings were in 
 cases — shabby old morocco cases lined with 
 faded satin, that had been made years ago to 
 fit them. 
 
 They were all old-fashioned rings, and 
 several of them were heir-looms. There was 
 a little note among them, which Mr. Bracken- 
 bury twisted up unread, and thrust into his 
 waistcoat-pocket. 
 
 He looked through the shabby old cases with 
 a smile of recognition on his face as he opened 
 one after the other and took the rin^s out.
 
 172 THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 1 By Jove !' he said, l she's sent me the old 
 marquise ! I remember seeing this on my 
 grandmother's finger ;' and he held the ring 
 up to the light as he spoke. 
 
 It was an old-fashioned marquise ring set 
 with brilliants, and a big oval emerald in the 
 centre. 
 
 1 Romney painted her with that on her 
 finger,' he went on, examining the ring 
 curiously. ' She wasn't much of a beauty, 
 but her hands were famous, and she never lost 
 a chance of showing them. By Jove ! there'll 
 be the pictures to go some day. I wonder 
 what a Romney is worth ? I wish she had 
 been better looking ! Beauties always fetch 
 good prices.' 
 
 ' Going to sell your grandmother next ?' 
 said Jack with a forced laugh. He took up 
 the rings one after the other and laid them 
 down again almost reverently. They were 
 all old family rings ; there was not a modern
 
 'A FRIEND' 175 
 
 one amongst them. Rubies and sapphires 
 and pearls and brilliants — there were thirteen 
 in all, flashing out brilliant rays of light like 
 living things as they lay in a confused heap 
 on the table. 
 
 Jack thought of the white fingers they had 
 once shone upon, and he turned away from the 
 sight with something like a shudder. ' I tell 
 you what, Brackenbury,' he said with an oath, 
 k if you lay a finger on one of these I'll not 
 raise a penny ! Pack them up and send them 
 back to your mother at once, and we'll borrow 
 the three hundred together on a joint bill, or 
 note, or whatever the cursed thing is called.' 
 
 ' All right, 1 said Mr. Brackenburv with his 
 delightful smile ; ' I'm agreeable if you are ;' 
 and he proceeded to put the rings back in 
 their cases. 
 
 He put them back leisurely in his easy, 
 indifferent way. Once only he paused, and 
 slipped one of the rings on his finger — it was
 
 174 THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 the marquise ring — and held his hand up to 
 the light with the brilliants sparkling upon it. 
 
 He had inherited his maternal grand- 
 mother's beautiful hand, with the long supple 
 white fingers, and looking at the hand and 
 the ring reminded him again of the picture. 
 
 ' I wonder what that Romney would fetch ?' 
 he said, slipping the ring off his finger and 
 returning it to the old worn case. ' Pity the 
 old woman wasn't a beauty !' 
 
 He put the packet in his pocket, and walked 
 away whistling ; he stopped in the middle of 
 the quad and laughed his little, low, delightful 
 laugh, though there was nobody near, and 
 there was nothing particular to laugh at. 
 
 Later in the day he went to his tutor, Mr. 
 Flynt, and represented to him that a pressing 
 matter of business required his immediate 
 presence in town, and demanded an exeat. 
 The tutor had no plea for refusing him, and 
 he granted the exeat with that unwillingness
 
 'A FRIEND' 175 
 
 and suspicion which was so un worth } T of his 
 genial nature. Mr. Gray also visited him on 
 a similar errand, with the same result. 
 
 In the excitement of that first transaction 
 with a money-lender, Jack forgot all about 
 the rings. 
 
 He remembered them suddenly as they 
 were travelling back to Cambridge by the 
 mail-train that night and Mr. Brackenbury 
 was sleeping on the opposite seat. 
 
 * I say,' said Jack, giving him a dig in the 
 ribs with his boot, as he lay extended on the 
 opposite seat, ' how about the rings ? Have 
 you sent them back ?' 
 
 Mr. Brackenbury growled a sleepy assent, 
 and tilted his cap over his eyes to shield them 
 from the light. 
 
 6 1 say/ persisted Jack, in the most unfeel- 
 ing manner, stirring him up with his boot, 
 1 wake up ! I want to know about the rings. 
 When did you send them back ?'
 
 i/6 THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 4 What an unbelieving fellow you are !' 
 murmured Mr. Brackenbury with a yawn. 
 ' I didn't keep them in my possession five 
 minutes after I left you. I packed them off 
 at once.' 
 
 It was quite as well that he had taken the 
 precaution to draw the cap over his eyes, or 
 Jack might have been tempted to ask further 
 questions. 
 
 That little transaction with 'A Friend ' in the 
 West End of London had been a more serious 
 thing than Jack had reckoned upon. ' A 
 Friend ' had not been the ideal philanthropist 
 that the foolish undergraduate had pictured 
 him. He did not part with the three hundred 
 pounds nearly so easily as that delightful 
 letter of his would lead one to expect. He 
 required a great deal of preliminary informa- 
 tion, and there were phrases in the document 
 that Jack didn't at all understand, and the 
 figures it represented were considerably in
 
 'A FRIEND* \H 
 
 excess of the amount he received. However, 
 Mr. Brackenbury said it was all right, and he 
 spoke from experience, and appended hi* 
 name to the little bit of stamped paper witli a 
 very handsome flourish to the last letter. 
 
 Jack was moody all the w r ay back ; it was 
 his iirst transaction with a money-lender, and 
 all sorts of unpleasant reflections would keep 
 cropping up during that dreadful journey. 
 
 There w r as only one thing that gave him 
 any comfort — Brackenbury had sent the 
 rin^s back. 
 
 He w r as dreadfully miserable and depressed 
 all the next day, and was in such bad form 
 when the college eight went out in the after- 
 noon that the coach vowed he was a disgrace 
 to the boat. 
 
 He bullied him from the bank all the time 
 they were out, and he came back more sick 
 and miserable than ever. He knew quite well 
 he deserved it. He knew it was only because 
 
 vol. i. 12
 
 *7S THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 they couldn't get another man of his weight 
 to row five that they didn't chuck him out 
 of the boat. He thought of chucking himself 
 out, and sending" in his resignation when he 
 got back to his rooms, but Mr. Brackenbury 
 persuaded him to sleep over it. 
 
 The big bullyragging giant on the bank 
 didn't say a word to Mr. Brackenbury. His 
 stroke was splendid ; it had never been better. 
 He was as cool and in as good term as if he 
 had been training steadily all the trim. His 
 nerves were not the least shaken by the 
 transactions of the last few days. 
 
 Jack was sulking in his room after Hall — 
 he had made a very good dinner — when Mr. 
 Brackenbury came in. He was exercising 
 tremendous self-denial, which, perhaps, made 
 him sulk ; it has that effect on some minds. 
 He had abjured his after-dinner pipe. If the 
 coach of St. Stej)hen's could only have seen 
 him now he would have relented, and not
 
 ( A FRIES D' 179 
 
 pitched into him the next clay in that unfeeling 
 manner. 
 
 'Hullo!' said Mr. Brackenbury cheerfully ; 
 ' what's up ?' 
 
 Jack muttered a surly oath and stuck his 
 legs up in a most uncomfortable attitude on 
 the high mantelpiece. It was his favourite 
 attitude when he happened to be smoking, but 
 it only recalled to his mind the self-denial he 
 was practising, and he groaned aloud. 
 
 'Any coffee going?' inquired Mr. Bracken- 
 bury. 
 
 • Xo ; I'm training.' said Jack moodily. 
 
 ' Brandy and soda, then ?' 
 
 1 Didn't I tell you I was training ?' said 
 Jack testily. 
 
 Mr. Brackenbury gave a low whittle. 
 
 ; All right, old man ; better late than never.' 
 
 'Where are you off?' Jack asked, seeing 
 Mr. Brackenbury was in evening-dress. 
 
 1 Oh, I'm ffoinff to the theatre. There's a 
 
 12— "2
 
 i8o THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 new company come down for a week, and I 
 happen to know the prima donna ; she's stay- 
 ing at Pells', and I've promised to look in to 
 supper after the play/ 
 
 ' Pells' in the Newmarket Road ?' 
 
 ' Yes. She's a daughter, or a niece, or a 
 relative of Delilah's. Why don't you come, 
 Gray ? I'll introduce you to her with all my 
 heart.' 
 
 It was a tempting offer, for Jack had never 
 spoken to an actress in his life ; and he had 
 very seldom seen one on the stage or off. 
 There was no theatre at Silverton. There 
 was a barn where some strolling players had 
 once acted 'Macbeth,' and a booth at the 
 Midsummer Fair where varieties of fifteen 
 minutes' duration were performed to a rustic 
 audience. 
 
 Jack had visited these places of amusement, 
 but of the legitimate drama he knew absolutely 
 nothing.
 
 l A FRIEXD' 181 
 
 The little Cambridge theatre was well filled, 
 but Mr. Brackenbury and his friend got seats 
 very near the front row — near enough for old 
 playgoers to see the paint and the powder, 
 but far enough off for impressionable under- 
 graduates to see the roses and lilies recently 
 gathered from Nature's own garden. 
 
 They were very pronounced, and the dresses 
 were tawdry and tarnished ; it was a very 
 second-rate company on a provincial tour, but 
 the singing was good. 
 
 Jack hadn't the faintest idea which was the 
 prima donna, for two girls took about equal 
 parts, and one did all the singing. The lead- 
 ing lady that Jack admired was a sharp-eyed 
 brunette with a fast, flashy manner, and, oh, 
 such roses ! She played to the house, and 
 the foolish undergraduate thought she played 
 to him. He had never been so ogled and 
 leered at in his life. The other girl, too, 
 sung at him, and sighed at him, and melted
 
 r82 THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 into tenderness at him in a way that was 
 quite embarrassing. She was a fair, soft, 
 pink-and-white blonde, with dreamy eyes, and 
 such golden hair as simple Jack Gray had 
 never seen in his life before. 
 
 He forgot all about his difficulties, and that 
 little transaction with 'A Friend' that was 
 continually haunting him. as he listened to 
 the siren's voice — as he blushed and trembled 
 beneath the bewitching gaze of the siren's 
 dreamy eyes — until just as he was going out, 
 and then it struck him that, perhaps, after all, 
 she had been languishing at Brackenbury all 
 the time. 
 
 It was quite late enough for the under- 
 graduates to be out of college ; indeed, the 
 dock of Great St. Mary's struck eleven as 
 they stood talking to the porter just inside 
 the gate. 
 
 They crossed the quadrangle in the moon- 
 light to Jack's rocms, where they had some
 
 'A FXIEND' 183 
 
 soda-water, and Mr. Brackenbury smoked a 
 cigarette. 
 
 ' What do you think of her ?' he asked 
 Jack, as he blew the smoke in little thin 
 curls between his lips and watched it melt 
 away. 
 
 ' Which one ?' said poor ignorant Jack. 
 
 1 Which ? There's only one, you duffer ! — 
 the girl with the voice and the eves 
 
 & 
 
 eyes, 
 
 1 Oh !' said Jack, with a shiver, ' she's 
 splendid ! Is that the prima donna ?' 
 
 ' Ye — e— es. She was prima donna once at a 
 London theatre ; but a — a little affair occurred, 
 and — and she didn't complete her engagement. 
 I believe she lost her voice after that; she 
 seems to have got it again now, and she's 
 starring it in the provinces with this wretched 
 scratch company.' 
 
 ' Oh !' said Jack, ' I thought her voice was 
 lovely.' 
 
 ' You should have heard her a year ago, old
 
 1 84 THE JUNIOR DEAA 
 
 man, and seen the houses she used to draw in 
 London ;' and Mr. Brackenbury didn't exactly 
 sigh, but he watched the smoke curling 
 upward from his lips abstractedly. ' I say, 
 by Jove !' he said presently, consulting his 
 watch, ' if we are going we ought to be off. 
 1 promised Delilah to be there before twelve.'
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE HOUSE IN THE NEWMARKET ROAD. 
 
 Mr. Brackenbury kept his appointment. He 
 was at the shady house in the Newmarket 
 Road before twelve o'clock. 
 
 The prima donna, described more par- 
 ticularly in the playbills as Mdlle. Rose 
 De l'Orme, was there before him. She had 
 taken off her stage finery, and wore a very 
 becoming evening dress, that suited her 
 wonderful complexion. She had also taken 
 off some of the stage-powder and the rouge. 
 Perhaps she couldn't get it all off. Rouge, if 
 well rubbed in, sticks, and powder, applied on 
 a surface judiciously prepared, is not easy to
 
 1 86 THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 remove. However, she. looked lovely by 
 lamplight: she had beautiful shoulders and 
 a deep chest, like most singing women, and 
 the finest eyes Jack had ever seen. 
 
 He almost thought that she flushed beneath 
 her rouge when Mr. Brackenbury came in, 
 and she certainly held his hand longer than 
 he had been accustomed to see women; con- 
 sequently he had to stand aside unnoticed 
 until the greeting was over, and Brackenbury 
 had leisure to present him. 
 
 ' Mr. Gray, of St. Stephen's — Miss Rose 
 De TOrme.' 
 
 Miss De l'Orme had a very interesting lisp 
 in private life, and she also spoke with a 
 slight foreign accent, doubtless, thought Jack, 
 owing to her foreign origin. 
 
 He had a great deal to learn ; he was only 
 an undergraduate in his second year. He 
 knew Mrs. De l'Orme by sight — in fact, 
 everybody in Cambridge knew her : a fat,
 
 THE HOUSE IN THE NEWMARKET ROAD 187 
 
 florid woman of uncertain age, who had the 
 reputation of having at one time been a beauty. 
 She had no other reputation to speak of. She 
 had no visible means of living, and nobody 
 quite knew how that lavishly decorated house 
 in the Xewmarket Road was kept up. She 
 had a husband, who was seldom seen, who, it 
 was rumoured, had once been a gyp ; and 
 University scandal went so far as to say that 
 the beautiful Mrs. De l'Orme was the daughter 
 of a bedmaker. She was an amiable, good- 
 natured woman, and served up very nice little 
 suppers. It was rumoured she cooked them 
 herself, and Mr. De l'Orme brought them up 
 on a tray, and waited upon the guests in his 
 shirt- sleeves. 
 
 It was not a very big house, but the most 
 was made of it. There was a billiard- table on 
 the lower floor in the back-room that looked 
 out into the garden ; there was baccarat up- 
 stairs on a nice green board ; there was a
 
 1 88 THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 piano in the front room, and little gilt chairs, 
 and luxurious lounges, and an accommodating 
 table, that unfolded itself and drew out like a 
 telescope, and could be wound up again when 
 it wasn't wanted and wheeled away into a 
 corner. 
 
 It was drawn out now, and a very recherche 
 little supper was spread upon it ; and there 
 was a delightful shimmer of silver and glass, 
 and the subdued music of champagne-corks 
 mingling with the murmur of talk when Jack 
 and his friend went in. 
 
 There were five or six other undergraduates 
 present, seated at the table, for supper had 
 begun, but no other ladies than Mrs. De 
 rOrme and her relative, who had just come 
 in from the theatre. 
 
 They were so much alike, and the ages of 
 both were so uncertain, that the relationship 
 between them might have been that of mother 
 and daughter, sister, cousin, niece. Both were
 
 THE HOUSE IN THE NEWMARKET ROAD 189 
 
 fair, and one was fat. The mysterious changes 
 wrought by time were visible on the elder 
 woman's face. It wasn't wrinkled, and it 
 wasn't faded ; but it had broadened and de- 
 veloped, and every detail that had once been 
 lovely had coarsened and exaggerated with 
 the years. Some faces grow so etherealized 
 that the pure soul within looks out through 
 a thin veil — that when the last change 
 comes, it seems to those who are left as if 
 the veil had only worn away : the same 
 subtle process reversed had changed the 
 lovely Mrs. De l'Orme into the coarse, 
 vulgar woman who presided over the supper- 
 table. 
 
 Room was made for Jack opposite Miss 
 De 1'Orme, and Mr. Brackenbury found a 
 seat beside her. 
 
 ' I didn't think Rosey would be able to sing 
 to-night,' said Mrs. De l'Orme to Bracken- 
 bury ; ' she had one of her bad attacks of
 
 igo THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 asthma corning down. She wasn't able to 
 breathe all the morning.' 
 
 ' She never sang better,' said Mr. Bracken- 
 bury gallantly ; ' it quite reminded me of the 
 old days ;' and he bent down over Miss De 
 l'Orme, and whispered a few words in a 
 lower tone that Jack could not catch, and 
 that brought quite a rival blush into her 
 cheeks beneath the rouge. 
 
 She was decidedly pretty, and she had a 
 soft voice, a particularly soft voice, with 
 liquid inflexions : of course it had been care- 
 fully trained, but coming between those red 
 lips and from that full white throat, it was so 
 soft that it might have been lined with velvet. 
 
 ' I saw you there,' she said with a laugh, 
 ■ and — and of course I sang my best — it u-ed to 
 be a favourite of yours : I will sing it again, 
 if you like, after supper.' 
 
 ' Oh, if you would, Mdlle. Jlo.«e, if you are 
 not too tired !' ^aid the men in a chorus.
 
 THE HOUSE IN THE NEWMARKET ROAD 191 
 
 Mdlle. Rose had finished her supper, and 
 she went over to the piano while the men sat 
 drinking champagne at the table, and began 
 to play a low, delightful accompaniment. 
 
 Her voice was superb to-night, sweeter in a 
 room than in a theatre. She sang song after 
 song while the men sat drinking, until Mrs. 
 De l'Orme vowed she would have no voice 
 left for the next day, and led the way into 
 that upper room where the green table was 
 spread. 
 
 Mr. Brackenbury stayed till the last leaning 
 over the singer, and turning the pages of the 
 music that lay oj^en on the piano, while Jack 
 fidgeted at the table. 
 
 He didn't want to go upstairs and play 
 baccarat with the rest — he had no money 
 to lose — and it was long past midnight, 
 and he suddenly remembered he was train- 
 ing ; but, perhaps, most of all he felt un- 
 comfortably de trop. It was no fun worth
 
 192 THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 staying for, seeing another fellow make 
 love. 
 
 If it had been a personal affair it would 
 have been different. 
 
 Mrs. De l'Orme came rustling down the 
 stairs presently. The frou-frou of her dress 
 rustling on the stairs could be heard some 
 seconds before she came into the room, so that 
 there was time for Mr. Brackenbury to 
 remove his arm from the back of the chair 
 where Mdlle. Rose was reclining, and for that 
 lady herself to assume a more upright 
 position. Mr. Brackenbury, however, did 
 not remove his arm ; and the lovely prima 
 donna reclined against it with her dreamy 
 eyes looking up into his in that delightful 
 manner she had been practising all the 
 evening. 
 
 Perhaps she was rehearsing iioav ? 
 
 Mrs. De l'Orme came frou-frou-ing into 
 the room, and caught them in this pretty
 
 THE HOUSE IN THE NEWMARKET ROAD 193 
 
 attitude. There were many points of 
 resemblance between the two women, but the 
 velvety voice of the prima donna was not 
 one of the points. 
 
 ' Now, look here, you Xevil, or Devil, 
 Brackenbury,' said the lady in a strident 
 voice — she had been drinking a good deal of 
 champagne — ' we'll have no more of that ! 
 You just let Rosey alone. You ruined her 
 prospects once, and now that she's picking up 
 a bit, you come round her again. You've 
 played fast and loose with her long enough ; 
 if she'd got the spirit of a mouse, she'd have 
 given you up long ago ; but Rosey never had 
 no spirit.' 
 
 1 Xo ?' said Mr. Brackenbury with a smile, 
 looking down into the lovely face that was so 
 near his shoulder ; ' you never had any spirit, 
 had you, Rosey ?' 
 
 ' Don't go making fun of me, Mr.' Nevil, or 
 
 VOL. I. 13
 
 i 9 4 THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 Mr. Devil !' said the lady, working herself up 
 into a rage. 
 
 She was so very red in the face with her 
 virtuous emotions, or the champagne she had 
 been partaking of so freely, that Jack was 
 afraid she was going to have a fit of apo- 
 plexy; and she stuck her arms out akimbo 
 in a manner that was more aggressive than 
 becoming. Most men would have beaten a 
 hasty retreat, but Mr. Brackenbury stood his 
 ground and listened to her with that delight- 
 ful smile of his, as if she were paying him a 
 pretty compliment. 
 
 ' Give the lady a chair, Jack,' he said ; he 
 couldn't offer her one himself without removing 
 his arm. 
 
 4 When I wants a chair of my own, I can 
 take it without your asking,' said the lady, 
 pushing aside the chair Jack hastened to set 
 for her. ' If Rosey hasn't got the spirit to 
 take her own part, then they that belongs to
 
 THE HOUSE IN THE NEWMARKET ROAD 195 
 
 her has got to take it for her. Now, what's 
 your intentions, Mr. Brackenbury ? That's 
 plain : you can't get out of that. What's 
 your intentions ?' 
 
 Mr. Brackenbury smiled his slow quiet 
 smile and looked down into the lovely face 
 that was looking up into his. 
 
 I What are our intentions, Rosey ?' he said 
 with a laugh ; but the prima donna did not 
 laugh. 
 
 I I didn't ask Rosey ; I asked you,' said 
 Mrs. De l'Orme. 'Rosey's a fool, or she'd 
 have settled that long- ago. You don't get 
 off with me so easy. I asked you a plain 
 question, Mr. Brackenbury, here before a 
 witness ;' this was the first notice she had 
 taken of Jack, who was feeling dreadfully 
 uncomfortable, and would have given any- 
 thing to have been near the street door ; but 
 he would have to pass Mrs. De l'Orme to 
 reach it.
 
 19') THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 4 Answer me a plain question, here, before 
 your friend : Are you going to marry Rosey or 
 not ? No beating about the bush; I want a 
 plain "yes," or "no." ' 
 
 ' You have put it admirably, Mrs. De 
 l'Orme, in a way that reflects great credit 
 upon your — ah — sisterly feeling !' said Mr. 
 Brackenbury in his most courteous manner, 
 and with a smile faintly breaking round the 
 corners of his mouth ; ' but this is a delicate 
 matter ' — and he paused and sighed, and looked 
 down into the beautiful face that was watching 
 him, oh so closely ! and paling as he spoke 
 beneath the rouge — ' and one that can only be 
 settled between liosey and myself. I will see 
 her another day — this is scarcely the time 
 and place ;' and he glanced round at the 
 remnants of the feast, the glasses and the 
 empty champagne bottles. 
 
 ' Good-night, Rose, take care of your voice: 
 it was charming to-night. Au revoir ! No,
 
 THE HOUSE IN THE NEWMARKET ROAD 197 
 
 thanks, Mrs. De l'Orme, I'll not go upstairs 
 to-night ; I'm late, or rather early, and I 
 shall hardly get in college as it is.' 
 
 He bent over Mdlle. Rose's hand, and he 
 bowed low to Mrs. De 1'Orine, and before 
 Jack could recover his breath he found 
 himself out on the pavement, and Mr. 
 Brackenbury was whistling gaily down the 
 Xew market Road. 
 
 * Rather a breeze ?' said Jack nervouslv. 
 
 1 Yes ; she's rather an emotional female. 
 She means well, does Delilah, but she wants 
 managing.' 
 
 Jack suggested that she wanted a good 
 
 deal of managing. It was an embarrass- 
 es o 
 
 ing subject to refer to, and Mr. Bracken - 
 bury made no further allusion to it, but 
 whistled gaily all the way back to St. 
 Stephen's. 
 
 ' Mr. De l'Orme must have a warm time of 
 it,' said Jack ; he felt he must say something,
 
 198 THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 he could not altogether ignore the scene he 
 had just witnessed. 
 
 ' Mr. De l'Orme T repeated Mr. Bracken- 
 bury with a laugh — 'you mean old Pell. He 
 was Pell when he was a gyp at St. Stephen's : 
 De l'Orme is one of Delilah's many in- 
 genuous devices. Yes ; old Pell has a 
 warm time of it. By Jove ! it'll be daylight 
 before we get back.' 
 
 It was almost daylight now, and the cock 
 on the top of Jesus College had already 
 caught the first gleam of the breaking day. 
 The nights are so absurdly short in June. It 
 is to-morrow before you have nearly done 
 with to-day. It is time to get up before you 
 think of going to bed. 
 
 There is a sense of incongruity in the 
 roseate hues of early dawn mingling with the 
 revels of the night. The bashful, blushing 
 day breaking on the sleeping world suggests 
 peace and purity, and the vigils that good
 
 THE HOUSE IN THE NEWMARKET ROAD 199 
 
 angels keep. It is out of all keeping with 
 drunken revellers, and unseemly brawls, and 
 painted cheeks. Quick ! put out the lights, 
 and hide the rouge- pots ! 
 
 Some men who were sitting up late, or, 
 rather, rising up early to read for their 
 examinations, saw Mr. Brackenbury crossing 
 the grass in the direction of his rooms when 
 they happened to look out of window when 
 the day broke. He wore his cap and gown, 
 and was not flying across the quadrangle 
 bare-headed, like most men who have spent 
 their nights reading, or wining in other men's 
 rooms. 
 
 It was a trying day to Mr. Brackenbury — at 
 least, it w T ould have been trying to most men ; 
 it was the first dav of the General examination. 
 He ought to have taken his ' General ' a year 
 ago ; but he had spread his examinations for 
 his Little-go over nearly two years, and had 
 been sent down a term or two for various
 
 200 THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 differences with the college authorities, and 
 now, at the end of his eighth term of 
 residence — not reckoning the accidental 
 periods of rustication — he was about to take 
 his ' General.' 
 
 After that little upset to his nerves in the 
 shady house in the Newmarket Eoad, he 
 ought to have gone straight to bed, and tried 
 to sleep it off and gain strength, or, at any 
 rate, a quiet frame of mind for the trial that 
 awaited him. 
 
 The ' General ' is not usually considered a 
 very severe trial to men of ordinary in- 
 telligence. It has even been a subject of 
 grave doubt, to those whose august wisdom 
 orders these things, whether it is half severe 
 enough. Any sixth-form boy from a public 
 school could pass it easily. 
 
 It embraces the Acts of the Apostles in the 
 original Greek, a Greek and Latin classic, 
 some mathematics and mechanics, some trans-
 
 THE HOUSE IN THE NEWMARKET ROAD 201 
 
 lation into Latin prose, an English essay, and 
 a play of Shakespeare's. The subjects have the 
 charm of variety, and cover a wide field of 
 learning. 
 
 In point of fact, Mr. Brackenbury did not 
 go to bed at all. He saw a light shining in a 
 window that he knew well, and instead of 
 turning in at his own staircase he turned in at 
 a staircase in another wing, and groped his 
 way up the stairs. The sound of voices 
 guided him, but he knew his way of old, 
 and without the ceremony of knocking he 
 opened a door that was unsported and entered 
 a room on the second-floor. 
 
 The curtains were drawn before the 
 window, and the blinds were pulled down to 
 keep the unwelcome daylight out, and all the 
 fun and frolic of a college wine was at its 
 height. 
 
 A shout was raised when Mr. Bracken - 
 bury put his head in at the door, and
 
 202 THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 there was a united yell, ' Come in ! Come 
 
 in • 
 
 ' 1 only looked in to say good-night, or 
 good-morning, rather/ said Mr. Brackenbury 
 modestly, and making a feint of withdrawing 
 his head. 
 
 1 Oh, hang it, man ! you're not going !' 
 and there was a simultaneous dash at Mr, 
 Brackenbury's head and his body, and he was 
 dragged in with only mild resistance, and 
 plumped down in a chair, and held there until 
 he had emptied three glasses of some kind of 
 ' cup ' that St. Stephen's was specially noted 
 for — a ceremony he submitted to without the 
 slightest symptom of resistance. 
 
 It was a very noisy wine : there was some 
 singing going on with rowdy choruses, and a 
 great amount of stamping of feet, which must 
 have been particularly trying to the man who 
 kept below, and who happened to be working 
 for his Tripos. He had been up three times
 
 THE HOUSE IN THE NEWMARKET ROAD 203 
 
 already, and he came up after Brackenbury 
 and begged they would make just a little less 
 noise. He was received with a derisive shout, 
 and a shower of missiles, more or less well 
 directed, greeted his appearance, and he 
 disappeared down the stairs quicker than he 
 came up, and banged to his oak with such 
 force that it jumped the men who were wining 
 above out of their seats like an explosion. 
 
 Mr. Brackenbury stayed in this delightful 
 company until the daylight would be kept out 
 no longer, and the June sunshine streamed 
 into the room and put out the sickly flaring 
 candles. 
 
 He left his host asleep on the floor, and the 
 comic man of the staircase dancing a hornpipe 
 on the table among the glasses. 
 
 Mr. Brackenbury wasn't in the mood for a 
 hornpipe, and he didn't feel at all sleepy, and 
 he had to prepare for his c General,' so he 
 walked down to the bathing- sheds and took a
 
 204 THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 header into the river, which was perhaps the 
 best preparation under the circumstances. 
 
 He turned up at chapel at half-past seven, 
 which very much surprised the Junior Dean, 
 and puzzled Mr. Flynt, who immediately sus- 
 pected some recent breach of college discipline. 
 
 He need not have troubled himself, and 
 fumed all through the service. Mr. Bracken - 
 bury had only gone in because he had nothing 
 better to do before the examination for the 
 ' General ' began, merely pour passer le temps. 
 
 He didn't pay any attention to what was 
 going on, though he got up and sat down 
 with the rest. A ridiculous refrain of a 
 comic song that the men had been singing over- 
 night, or, rather, in the early morning, kept 
 mixing itself up with the words of the Psalms 
 and the hymns. 
 
 If the Junior Dean could only have heard 
 Mr. Brack enbury beating out these foolish 
 words to the solemn tune ! —
 
 THE HOUSE IN THE NEWMARKET ROAD 205 
 
 1 Oh ! wouldn't you like to go. oh ! oh ! oh ! oh ! oh '. oh ! 
 and 
 Ask my dear papa ? Ha ! ha ! ha ! ha ! ha ! ha !' 
 
 His face was pale and almost pensive in the 
 sweet morning sunshine ; it was decidedly 
 interesting. It was the most striking face in 
 all those long benches that were filled with 
 possible bishops, and judges, and states- 
 men. 
 
 The Junior Dean looked over the heads of 
 the undergraduates at the pensive face in 
 that la&t bench, and wondered how he would 
 do in his ' General.' Perhaps he was anxious 
 about it, and that accounted for that pensive 
 paleness. 
 
 He murmured a prayer for all the men who 
 were going through the fierce heats of their 
 various Iriposes, and he murmured one for the 
 pensive student who was going in for his 
 1 General.' 
 
 And all the time, while the Junior Dean 
 was praying for him, he was hammering
 
 206 THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 away in his idle brain at the senseless 
 refrain : 
 
 ' I should very much like to go, oh ! oh ! oh ! oh ! oh ! oh ! 
 
 and 
 Ask your dear papa. Ha ! ha ! ha ! ha ! ha ! ha !' 
 
 The silly words kept coming into his head 
 all through that examination in the Senate 
 House. He couldn't get them out of his head. 
 It couldn't have been Mdlle. Rose's papa he 
 was thinking about ; there were no difficulties 
 in the way of approaching Mr. Pell. 
 
 ' Whose papa ?' he asked himself once, 
 when he ought to have been asking himself 
 one of the interesting questions on the paper 
 before him. 
 
 It would not have been of much use if he 
 had. The paper happened to be on the Acts 
 of the Apostles in the original Greek. It 
 might have been in any other language — 
 including English — for anything Mr. Bracken- 
 bury knew about it.
 
 THE HOUSE IN THE NEWMARKET ROAD 207 
 
 He hadn't any notes written on his cuff, 
 or on his nails, or inside his cap, or up his 
 sleeve, or rolled up in his pocket-handker- 
 chief, or inside the case of his watch. He 
 hadn't resorted to any of these ingenious 
 devices, which would have taken him probably 
 quite as long as to read up the subject. 
 
 He didn't have recourse to any adventitious 
 aids when the questions puzzled him, like 
 other men. He didn't bite his nails, or 
 scratch his head, or tap his forehead — he 
 wouldn't have found much to help him there 
 if he had — or smooth his chin, or tickle the 
 side of his nose, or look up at the ceiling, or 
 stare desperately out at the strip of blue June 
 sky that was visible through the Senate House 
 windows. He did none of these utterly futile 
 things. He did not gather inspiration from 
 any of these sources. He looked through the 
 paper, and, finding that he could only do 
 about three questions out of thirty, he arranged
 
 208 THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 the three to cover as much paper as possible, 
 and wrote them out with much delibera- 
 tion and care. They really looked like 
 thirty ! 
 
 Then he abandoned himself to pleasing re- 
 flections which had nothing to do with the 
 matter in hand, while his brain, which could 
 never be long idle, drummed out the sense- 
 less refrain. He would have hummed it, but 
 an examiner, who kept walking up and down 
 the Senate House in a most provoking way, 
 had his eye upon him, and humming and 
 whistling are quite as heinous offences in the 
 eyes of examiners as cribbing, and are visited 
 in the same way. 
 
 It was a horrible morning ! It would have 
 been quite unbearable but for the pleasing 
 reflections involved in the persistent refrain 
 of that idiotic song : 
 
 * Oh ! I should very much like to go, oh ! oh ! oh ! oh ! oh ! oh ! 
 and 
 Ask your dear papa. Ha ! ha ! ha ! ha ! ha ! ha. !'
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 ON THE FKESHEKS. 
 
 ' A brighter age is dawning in the circling of the years ; 
 Lordly woman sees before her new "ambitions," new 
 careers.' 
 
 It was a heart-burning time at Xewnhain. It 
 was a very lucky thing for the undergraduates 
 of the women's colleges that time was not 
 counted by heart-beats, as one of our poets 
 has rashly suggested as a substitute for 
 chronometers. There would have been gray 
 locks instead of shining tresses — albeit, untidy 
 ones — on many youthful heads, and, oh, such 
 wrinkles on smooth young faces ! 
 
 The examinations were literally sapping the 
 blood out of the girls' faces. Their hearts 
 
 VOL. I. 14
 
 210 THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 were stout enough, and they wouldn't have 
 given in for the world ; but day by day they 
 grew whiter, and their eyes grew heavy, with 
 dark lines beneath them, and the sweetest 
 natures grew nervous and irritable beneath 
 the strain. Only those who had gone through 
 the fierce ordeal knew what an expenditure of 
 effort and self-sacrifice it involved. 
 
 Everybody was nice and sympathetic, and 
 did what they could to encourage the little 
 band that went up day after day to the ex- 
 aminations. 
 
 They were all Tripos candidates. The 
 students of Newnham and Girton all go in for 
 honours. Women never take Poll degrees. 
 The University refuses to give ladies any 
 visible symbol of their success, but it classes 
 them in the Tripos. It credits women with 
 nobler aims than men, and considers any such 
 stimulus as rewards unnecessary. 
 
 The University doesn't think it good for
 
 OX THE FRESHERS 211 
 
 them ; it believes that they are strong 
 enough, }3ersevering enough, diligent, self- 
 sacrificing, and quite ambitious enough to be 
 able to do without such spurs to learning. 
 
 It would have touched the conscience of the 
 flintiest-hearted old Dons to have seen the 
 wav those Xewnham ffirls were working ; 
 they wouldn't have had the heart to refuse 
 them a bit of ribbon in their buttonholes, and 
 two little letters after their names. 
 
 It was no new things for Dorothy Pio'Q'ott to 
 work, it was part of her nature ; but even her 
 cheeks grew grayer and her eyes more absent 
 as the dreadful days drew to a close. Other 
 girls had attaques des nerfs, or other symptoms 
 of breaking down, but Miss Pio-o-ott was like 
 a rock. She did not do her running in the 
 morning, as she found that increased circula- 
 tion interfered with the action of the brain ; 
 but she did an hour's boating with Molly 
 when the day's work was over in the upper 
 
 14—2
 
 212 THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 river, and Mr. Brackenbury and Jack would 
 come down and coach them from the bank or 
 from a punt. 
 
 It was great fun, this tubbing in the sweet 
 June weather. It was the best thing in the 
 world after the dreadful strain, and perhaps 
 was the best preventive of a arise des nerfs. 
 
 The Junior Dean never assisted on these 
 occasions, though he could have coached them 
 beautifully ; or he might have come down in 
 his canoe and hovered about them, and warned 
 them of all the nasty places, and piloted them 
 round all the corners. He would have had 
 his work cut out, for of all the twisty, sharp- 
 cornered rivers, it would be hard to find one 
 to beat the Freshers. 
 
 The girls nearly got upset dozens of times 
 sticking upon sand-banks, and running into 
 bramble bushes, which hang over the stream 
 in the most embarrassing way; and as the 
 current generally sets towards them, the girls
 
 ON THE FRESHERS 213 
 
 were continually in danger of being left 
 behind, like Absalom, in the middle of a 
 thorn-bush. 
 
 Miss Piggott left her hat behind once, and 
 Molly lost a rose from her bosom, and Mr. 
 Brackenbury gallantly went to the rescue. 
 He brought the hat back soaked and dripping, 
 but he didn't return the rose. But one 
 evening a more serious affair did happen. 
 It was the last evening of the Tripos examina- 
 tions — at least, it was the eve of the last day 
 — and Miss Pig-^ott had been verv reluctant 
 to go out. There were one or two things, 
 she said, that she wanted to look up, and she 
 couldn't afford the time. It was two days 
 before the races, and the stroke of St. Stephen's 
 would most likely be out with his college 
 boat. 
 
 Molly fretted and fumed ; she had been 
 working all day for that wretched Previous 
 that was only two days off, and she felt
 
 214 THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 if she couldn't go out on the water and let the 
 steam off she should go out of her mind. She 
 tried tennis, but it made her sick jumping 
 about in the limited space of the courts ; she 
 wanted air, freedom, and play for her active 
 young limbs and her untrained muscles. 
 
 1 If you don't go, I shall go alone,' said 
 Molly. ' I've sent a note to Jack, and asked 
 him to meet me at Robinson Crusoe's ; I shall 
 row slowly up towards Grantchester, as far as 
 the bridge, and if you like to meet us there 
 we can pick you up.' 
 
 ' Very well,' said Dorothy, ' only don't go 
 too fast. I couldn't possibly get away for 
 another hour.' 
 
 Molly went alone. When she was half-way 
 across Coe Fen she saw Jack waiting for her 
 on the path by the willows. She recognised 
 him by his college blazer, and waved her hand 
 to him in her accustomed energetic way. But 
 when she reached Robinson Crusoe's Island, 

 
 ON THE FRESHERS 215 
 
 where the boats are hired, she found she 
 hadn't been signalling to Jack, but to Mr. 
 Brackenbury. 
 
 'Where's Jack?' she asked, rather in- 
 dignantly. 
 
 ' Oh, he'll turn up in a canoe presently; 
 he's coming on. I've got a beautiful boat, 
 Miss Gray — just holds three. If you and 
 Miss Piggott '11 row, I'll steer. Where is Miss 
 Piggott ?' 
 
 4 Oh, she isn't coming,' said Molly im- 
 patiently ; * at least, not for the present. 
 She's going to meet us at Grantchester ; she's 
 working, you know, for her exam. It's the 
 last day.' 
 
 ' Yes,' said Mr. Brackenbury, with a sigh ; 
 1 it's the last day.' 
 
 He had just finished his own exam., and 
 he was sighing, probably, in anticipation of 
 the result. 
 
 Molly wasn't quite sure whether she ought
 
 2i6 THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 to go with him alone. Jack was coming on 
 behind, and Dorothy would be waiting for 
 them at Grantchester ; there couldn't possibly 
 be any harm in it. 
 
 Even while she was considering she found 
 herself stepping into the boat, and then it was 
 too late to alter her mind. 
 
 The exercise was so delightful that she was 
 very glad she hadn't altered it before even 
 they had reached the bathing-sheds. It was 
 a sweet June evening ; the smell of the new- 
 mown hay came to them across the meadows, 
 and there were delicious whiffs of honeysuckle 
 borne on every breeze, and briar-roses of every 
 delightful tint were blushing all the way along 
 the bank. Mr. Brackenbury picked handfuls 
 of them, and tossed them across the boat 
 to Molly. He made a grab at some white 
 hawthorn blossom, that grew on a bush quite 
 in the middle of the river, and nearly upset 
 the boat. Everything was in bloom, for it
 
 ON THE FRESHERS 217 
 
 was the blossoming-time of the year. The 
 banks were blue with forget-me-nots, and 
 white with hawthorn, and golden with butter- 
 cups; and there was a soft, delightful haze over 
 everything, and a thin silver crescent moon 
 was rising. 
 
 Molly noted all these delightful things — 
 moon and all — and looked out anxiously for 
 Jack. There were a few canoes on the river, 
 but Jack's wasn't among them, and it was a 
 long way to Grantchester Bridge, and perhaps 
 Dolly wouldn't be there, after all. 
 
 Mr. Brackenbury was unusually silent. He 
 didn't give Molly any hints on rowing; he 
 didn't find fault with her figure or her swing, 
 and he never once begged her to keep her 
 shoulders back. 
 
 He sat looking at her flushed face, and 
 wondering at the brightness of her eyes — 
 Rosey's eyes were not at all bright — and 
 thinking how much more becoming to a girl
 
 218 THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 Nature was than Art. He wasn't cheapening 
 Rosey's charms ; he was only comparing them. 
 And all the while, keeping time to the dip of 
 Molly's oars, that idiotic song kept ringing in 
 his ears : 
 
 ' Oh ! I should very much like to go, oh ! oh ! oh ! oh ! oh ! oh ! 
 and 
 Ask your dear papa. Ha ! ha ! ha ! ha ! ha ! ha !' 
 
 He talked about the exams, all the way. 
 There was no other subject possible in Cam- 
 bridge just now r except that and the boat- 
 races. 
 
 ' Miss Piggott is sure to come out pretty 
 high,' he said. 
 
 1 She is sure to be a Wrangler !' said Molly 
 loyally. 
 
 Mr. Brackenbury looked pensive — that lock 
 of black hair falling over his pale face gave 
 him that interesting pensive expression, quite 
 Byronic — and Molly thought he sighed. 
 
 He was comparing his own position in
 
 ON THE FRESHERS 219 
 
 the forthcoming University lists with Miss 
 Piggott's. It was not a particularly grati- 
 fying comparison ; and perhaps he sighed. 
 
 Molly thought he was regretting the absence 
 of her friend ; and she wondered whether the 
 Junior Dean was ever pensive, and if he 
 sighed when he thought of her. 
 
 She talked to him a great deal about 
 Dorothy, to make up for her absence ; she 
 said all sorts of nice things, which only an 
 engaged girl can afford to say, about her 
 bosom friend, and Mr. Brackenbury listened 
 to them all with that pensive smile, and 
 that foolish song in his brain — on his lips, 
 indeed — 
 
 ' Oh, I should very much like to go !' 
 
 There was no reason whatever why he 
 shouldn't go and ask Miss Piggott's papa, but 
 perhaps it was just as well that he should 
 ask the lady herself first. 
 
 The June twilight was really falling when
 
 220 THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 they reached Grantchester bridge ; Molly had 
 rowed very slowly all the way, waiting for 
 Jack, and when they reached the bridge Miss 
 Piggott wasn't there. 
 
 They waited about for a quarter of an hour, 
 and then Molly suggested they should go 
 back. She was tired with rowing all this 
 time, and she had quite used up all her 
 superfluous energy, so she changed places 
 with Mr. Brackenbury and coxed the little 
 boat back. 
 
 4 1 need not tell you to be careful, Miss 
 Gray,' said Mr. Brackenbury, ' you are an ex- 
 perienced cox ; only look out for the corners, 
 and keep away from the brambles.' 
 
 ' All right !' said Molly, putting the 
 strings round her neck, and settling to her 
 task like a 'Varsity cox. 
 
 It was astonishing how soon it grew dark. 
 The sun had set before they reached Grant- 
 chester bridge, and the long shadows of the
 
 ON THE FRESHERS 221 
 
 twilight were falling. But here, under the 
 trees, and beneath the high overhanging 
 banks, it seemed to grow suddenly dark. 
 There couldn't be a more uncomfortable place 
 to be caught in the dark than the Freshers — 
 short reaches with sharp elbows at each end, 
 and a bush or a sand-bank in the middle ; 
 long dark reaches w T ith hedges and trees 
 overhanging, and often meeting overhead, and 
 bramble bushes jutting out into the middle 
 of the stream, and unexpected currents always 
 lying in wait to carry a boat into them. 
 Molly had quite enough to do to steer clear of 
 these obstacles, and to keep a sharp look-out 
 for the corners ; there really wasn't much 
 chance of talking except in a spasmodic way. 
 
 ' I'm so sorry term's so nearly over,' said 
 Molly ; ' all the nice men I know are going 
 down. I hope you are not going down yet, 
 Mr. Brackenbury.' 
 
 ' No,' said Mr. Brackenbury ; 'I'm coming
 
 222 THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 up next term, and perhaps the term after, if I 
 miss my " General." ' 
 
 ' Oh ! you don't mean you haven't taken 
 your ''General"! I thought you had been 
 up years.' 
 
 ' Steady ! that was a near shave, Miss 
 Gray. Keep a little farther off the corners. 
 Yes ; I have been up longer than most men, 
 but I have only kept eight terms. I have 
 had the misfortune to be rusticated for a 
 year.' 
 
 ' Rusticated ? Oh, how shocking ! What 
 could you have been rusticated for ?' 
 
 ' Nothing particular : only a little difference 
 with the Dons. I didn't expect to reach the 
 end of this term. You see, a man gets used 
 to being sent down, to being plucked, to all 
 sorts of things that Xewnham girls w T ould 
 think disgraceful.' 
 
 6 I should think so ! Xobody is ever sent 
 down at Newnham — at least, not for breaches
 
 ON THE FRESHERS 223 
 
 of discipline. There was a girl once who 
 used to talk to a Selwyn man over the wall — 
 I believe she was engaged to him, or 
 something of the kind ; and she went down 
 suddenly, and the next day the man went 
 down, and — and I suppose they were married, 
 for no one ever heard any more about them.' 
 
 1 Xot a very dreadful thing to be sent down 
 for,' said Mr. Brackenbury with a laugh. 
 ; Wouldn't you risk rustication to talk to a 
 man you loved over the wall, Miss Gray ?' 
 
 ; I am quite sure if the man loved me he 
 wouldn't give me the opportunity,' said 
 Molly promptly. She was thinking of the 
 Junior Dean. He wouldn't have spoken to 
 her over the wall for the world if the 
 authorities had objected. He never even 
 asked her to walk in the Backs now, though 
 the penalties were not exactly rustication. 
 
 1 No,' said Mr. Brackenbury, i perhaps not ; 
 but all men are not so self-denying. I — I'm
 
 224 THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 afraid I shouldn't be content with speaking ; 
 I should drop over the wall sometimes if you 
 — if the woman I loved were there.' 
 
 ' It would be very selfish and wicked of 
 you ! Would you have no consideration for 
 the woman ?' 
 
 'No, I'm afraid I shouldn't — take care of that 
 corner, Miss Gray; you are going much too 
 near — no, if I loved a woman I should give 
 up everything in the world for her — and — and 
 — if she loved me she would give up every- 
 thing in the world for me.' 
 
 Mr. Brackenbury's voice was very low and 
 tender. 'How he must love Dolly!' said 
 Molly to herself. She didn't believe the 
 Junior Dean would do anything of the kind 
 for her. 
 
 ' The woman wouldn't deserve to be con- 
 sidered if she did anything so foolish,' she said 
 sharply. She had got the boat into a bramble 
 bush, and it had caught her hair and dragged
 
 ON THE FRESHERS 225 
 
 her hat off her head, and was scratching her 
 face dreadfully. 
 
 Mr. Brackenbury had to go to the rescue, and 
 he had to release Molly's beautiful hair and to 
 rescue her hat. and it took him quite a long 
 time to disengage her from the clinging 
 embrace of the bramble. 
 
 ' Would you make no sacrifice for a man 
 you loved, Miss Gray?' he said thickly, as he 
 bent over her, trying to free her hair. 
 
 She could not very well get away from 
 that near contact without tearing the hair out 
 of her head. She tried to, but all the hair- 
 pins came out, and it tumbled down, and it 
 got mixed up with the thorn-bush worse than 
 before. 
 
 ' If you wait a minute,' said Mr. Bracken- 
 bury, * I shall be able to free it ; but you must 
 keep your head still, please/ 
 
 Molly kept her head as still as she could, 
 but it was a very long minute — long enough to 
 vol. 1. 15
 
 226 THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 feel how hot Mr. Brackenbufy's breath was, 
 and how dreadfully it smelt of tobacco. 
 
 ( Would you make no sacrifice for the man 
 you loved, Miss Gray ?' he asked as he bent 
 over her. He hadn't any need to speak very 
 loud, as his lips were only a few inches from 
 her cheeks. 
 
 ' Yes,' said Molly impatiently, and giving a 
 lunge that cost her agonies; ' I would sacrifice 
 all the hair on my head ! Oh, do make haste, 
 Mr. Brackenbury ! Tear it out ; I don't care 
 how much I leave behind if I can only get 
 away !' 
 
 1 In that case,' said Mr. Brackenbury coolly, 
 { I think I had better cut it;' and he whipped 
 out a little pair of folding pocket scissors and 
 snipped off the unwilling locks. 
 
 It was so dark under the trees that Molly 
 didn't see what he put in his pocket besides 
 the scissors. She was only too glad to steer 
 round the next corner as fast as she could.
 
 av THE FRESHERS 227 
 
 She was in such a hurry to get away from 
 the nasty bramble-bushes that she steered 
 recklessly into the middle of the stream. She 
 didn't like the turn the conversation was 
 taking. She began to realize all at once that 
 it was not quite the correct thing to be out 
 alone on that dark river, in the dusky twi- 
 light, with a man she didn't know very much 
 about. She didn't stop to think what the 
 Junior Dean would say, or what Miss 
 Godolphin would say when the incident was 
 reported to her ; she didn't like the situation 
 herself, and she was anxious to get out of it, 
 and she steered recklessly, when at that 
 particular corner of that angular river she 
 ought to have steered with great care and 
 caution. 
 
 ' Look out, Miss Gray !' he sang out as she 
 swept round a very nasty corner, and the boat 
 nearly went into the bank. ' There are all sorts 
 of obstacles about here, and no end of sand 
 
 15—2
 
 228 THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 banks; shall I cox? — I know the river better 
 than you do.' 
 
 ' Just as you like,' she said stiffly. ' Any- 
 thing,' she said in her heart, 4 to be out of 
 this !' And then she stood up to change 
 places, and the boat began to wobble dread- 
 fully, and she would have fallen if Mr. 
 Brackenbury hadn't caught her in his arms. 
 
 He needn't have held her there quite so 
 long, unless it was necessary to steady the boat; 
 and oh, if the Junior Dean had seen her ! 
 
 She plumped down to the oars flurried and 
 excited, and more anxious than ever to get 
 away from this dark cornery river, and 
 a companion who would talk nothing but 
 sentiment. 
 
 ' I'm sure we shall get drowned,' she said, 
 when they came to a very dark bit ; 'I cant 
 see where my oars are going. I can't see my 
 hand before me/ 
 
 ' No?* he said softly. ' It is so dark that I
 
 ON THE FRESHERS 229 
 
 cannot see you; but I can hear your voice. If 
 we are drowned, we shall be drowned to- 
 gether, Molly !' 
 
 She was sure he said ' Molly/ but she tried 
 to make herself believe that her ears had 
 deceived her. 
 
 ' Oh, I hope not ! I should very much 
 object to being drowned with anybody.' 
 
 ' Not with the man you loved ? You 
 would rather die with him than — than live 
 without him. What does Tennyson say ? 
 
 • " Better thou and I were lying, hidden from the heart's 
 disgrace, 
 Roll'd in one another's arms, and silent in a last embrace." ' 
 
 ' Oh !' said Molly in alarm — the boat was 
 wobbling dreadfully ; ' I'm sure I'd rather 
 not ! I wish you would try to keep the 
 boat steady, Mr. Brackenbury !' 
 
 If there had been light enough for her to have 
 seen Mr. Brackenbury's face, she would have 
 had an excuse for her fears. She was as strong-
 
 230 THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 minded as most girls, but she was trembling 
 in spite of herself. If she had been a thought- 
 reader, and could have read what was in the 
 heart of the man who sat a few paces from her, 
 holding her destiny in his hand, she would 
 have trembled still more. 
 
 That foolish doggerel that had been running 
 in his mind all the way had come uppermost 
 at this supreme moment : 
 
 ' Oh ! I should very much like to go, and 
 Ask your dear papa ! 3 
 
 'Much good it would be you going!' he 
 said to himself bitterly. ' Much good it 
 would be asking her, or her dear papa either! 
 No, there is only one way. Life isn't worth 
 living without her ; and — and at any rate he 
 would never marry her. No, no, Mr. Junior 
 Dean, if she will not marry me, she shall 
 not marry you ! She is in my hands. 
 I have only to turn the rudder one way, and 
 the boat will turn over in a nice deep bit of
 
 aV THE FRESHERS 231 
 
 water — and it will be all over. It is the 
 quickest way to put an end to a troublesome 
 engagement. Say your prayers, my dear, 
 it will soon be over. 
 
 ' " Better thou and I were lying, hidden from the heart's 
 disgrace, 
 Roll'd in one another's arms, and silent in a last embrace." 
 
 Are you ready, Molly darling ? " Silent in 
 a last embrace !" Ah, they will say I was 
 making a gallant effort to save you. The 
 papers will write a paragraph on it ; they'll 
 bury us together and put up a tombstone 
 over us. ' ; They were beautiful and pleasant 
 in their lives, and in their deaths they were 
 not divided." Xo, Molly darling, we will not 
 be divided ' 
 
 ' Can you see where you are going, Mr. 
 Brackenbury ?' 
 
 Molly's clear, sharp, ringing voice faltered 
 in spite of herself as she asked the question. 
 It was almost as soft as Rosey's — soft and 
 tremulous.
 
 232 THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 Was that dark wing that was hovering so 
 near casting its shadow already on the girl's 
 troubled mind ? 
 
 1 I can see perfectly,' said Mr. Bracken- 
 bury cheerfully. ' I can see exactly where 
 I am going.' 
 
 The river was as dark as the Styx, and 
 Charon might not be far off ; he might be 
 waiting for them round the next bend. 
 
 ' It will be a pretty paragraph for the 
 papers,' continued Mr. Brackenbury, pursuing 
 the pleasant thread that Molly had broken in 
 upon. l A Cambridge undergraduate and a 
 Newnham girl drowned whilst boating. It 
 will call attention to the dangerous state of 
 the river. It will be a nine days' wonder.' 
 
 ' Where are you going, Mr. Brackenbury ?' 
 The girl's sharp treble was quite weak and 
 imploring. 
 
 Oh, if she were only out of this ! 
 
 1 I know exactly where I am going, Molly.'
 
 OX THE FRESHERS 233 
 
 She was quite sure now he said ' Molly,' but 
 she hadn't the spirit to resent it ; all her 
 courage had o-one down into her hoots. 
 
 ' Xo, it won't last nine days ' — Mr. 
 Brackenbury was dallying with the situation, 
 delaying the denouement, as a man awaiting 
 execution might dally with the rope — ' it will 
 be forgotten in the excitement of all those 
 cursed lists ! It will be forgotten before the 
 races are over. By Jove ! it'll spoil the races. 
 There'll be another stroke in our boat, and we 
 shall miss a bump every night ! Hang it ! 
 there's not a man fit for stroke, and the boat's 
 bound to go down. It's rank disloyalty to 
 chuck up now. Xo, I must wait for another 
 opportunity, my dear.' 
 
 ' What is happening ? Wherever are you 
 going, Mr. — Brack ' 
 
 Molly never finished the sentence ; if she 
 did, it was in another element. The boat 
 didn't exactly wobble, though it went quite
 
 234 THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 suddenly up on end ; there was a tree sunk 
 in the middle of the stream, and it had tried 
 to climb it. 
 
 She wasn't at all surprised when she found 
 herself in the water — she had been expecting 
 it the last half-hour — but she was conscious 
 of a confused feeling of wonder when she felt 
 herself drawn ashore with Mr. Brackenbury's 
 strong arm around her. 
 
 She had a strange impression that he would 
 make no effort to save her. 
 
 She was in a dreadful mess, all the slime 
 and weed sticking to her, and she was wet 
 through to the skin. She had gone quite 
 under, tilted straight out as that ridiculous 
 boat shot up into the air. 
 
 ' Can I help you in any way ?' said Mr. 
 Brackenbury, as she stood dripping on the bank. 
 'N — o — o, thank you,' said Molly tremu- 
 lously ; 'only if you would get my hat ?' 
 She was dreadfully ashamed and angry
 
 ON THE FRESHERS 235 
 
 Avith herself, as she stood in that sorry plight, 
 dripping like a Newfoundland dog on the 
 grass. The hay was newly cut in the field, 
 and she felt the same canine instinct to go 
 and roll herself in it. 
 
 It was a most undignified situation. 
 ' I am so >orry," said Mr. Brackenbury, 
 returning from a fruitless search for the 
 missing hat ; i I can't rind your hat, but I 
 have found mine, if you would not mind 
 wearing it.' 
 
 And then he plunsred again into the dark 
 water and righted the boat, and found the 
 paddles, and proposed to row Molly back to 
 Cambridge. 
 
 ' No, thank you,' she said humbly. ' I 
 would rather walk back. I will run across 
 the fields ; I shall not be likely to meet any- 
 body. I shall run all the way. Xo, I'm not 
 at all afraid. I would rather o-o alone, thank 
 you. Good-night !'
 
 236 THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 The water was dripping off her clothes, 
 and her feet squished in her shoes, which 
 luckily hadn't come off; and her hair, which 
 had fallen down in the boat when it caught 
 in the brambles, was full of weed and slimy 
 things, and she had not got a dry rag to wipe 
 her face with, and something that was not the 
 .waters of the Granta was smarting in her 
 eyes. 
 
 Fortunately, she didn't meet any people all 
 the way back, and she stole into Newnham by 
 the back way, feeling dreadfully miserable and 
 ashamed, and leaving wet footmarks all the 
 way along the passage and up the stairs to her 
 own door. 
 
 Dorothy Piggott, looking out of a lower 
 window, saw the dark, drenched figure pass 
 swiftly in. Something in the attitude struck 
 her, and she followed the wet footprints 
 upstairs. 
 
 ' Oh, Molly ! where have you been ?' she
 
 ON THE FRESHERS 237 
 
 cried, as, holding the light she carried above 
 her head, she saw the stricken, dripping figure 
 in the middle of the room. 
 
 Molly was wearing Mr. Brackenbury's hat, 
 and her hair was past describing ; and as to 
 her dress — well, it was making a dreadful 
 mess in the middle of the room. 
 
 'Oh, Dolly! why didn't you come? why 
 didn't you come ?' she moaned ; and then she 
 put out her arms, all dripping with the nasty 
 slime, and Dorothy Piggott put down the 
 light and stared at her. 
 
 ' Don't you see ?' said Molly, holding up her 
 arms, with the slime of the river dripping off 
 them. 
 
 ' Oh, you've been in the water ! You've 
 been nearly drowned ! Oh, Molly ! Molly !' 
 and Miss Piggott gathered the wet, soddened 
 figure to her faithful bosom.
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 MOLLY TAKES HER LITTLE-GO. 
 
 ' Before another decade has elapsed, our eyes shall see 
 College tutors wearing thimbles o'er convivial cups of tea.' 
 
 The first thing to be done was to prevent 
 discovery. It would never do for this 
 escapade to reach Miss Godolphin's ears. 
 There were attendant circumstances which 
 would render the plain unvarnished truth 
 being told unpleasant, to say the least 
 of it. 
 
 Miss Piggott locked the door, to begin with, 
 and then proceeded to get Molly out of her 
 wet clothes. 
 
 She was unutterably wet.
 
 MOLLY TAKES HER LITTLE-GO 239 
 
 1 If she had been in the water a week,' 
 as Miss Piggott remarked, i she couldn't have 
 been wetter.' And, oh, the shocking mess it 
 made upon the floor ! 
 
 i I'm sure the wet '11 go through into the 
 room below, and it '11 drop down in big blobs 
 on somebody's nose/ said Molly, with an 
 attempt at a laugh. She was very nearly 
 crying, and the situation was so ridiculous 
 that she couldn't help laughing, and Dorothy 
 Piggott was afraid every minute she would 
 have a arise de ?ierf$, and then all the girls 
 would come crowding round the door to know 
 what was the matter. 
 
 There was no convenient cellarette at hand 
 like there is in a man's room ; there was 
 nothing, indeed, but a bottle of eau de Cologne 
 on the mantelpiece, which Molly flatly refused 
 to drink. 
 
 4 Then you must have a cup of tea, you 
 poor dear!' said Dorothy; and she set light
 
 240 THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 to the little spirit-kettle, and resumed her 
 task of peeling off Molly's clinging garments. 
 
 She got her into a dressing-gown presently, 
 and proceeded to wring her clothes and wipe 
 up the dreadful mess they had made ; and 
 then a bright thought struck her, and she 
 fetched some box- cord and stretched it across 
 the room and hung up the wet things 
 upon it. 
 
 They would drip in spite of all the wring- 
 ing, and Molly's dear little aBsthetic room, 
 with all the plates and knick-knacks stuck 
 about, looked lor all the world like a back- 
 yard on a washing day. 
 
 1 It will never do for you to stay here 
 all night,' said Dorothy, when she had made 
 an end of these performances ; ' you would get 
 a dreadful cold. We will leave the window 
 open and lock the door, and you'll come 
 across to my room and sleep with me.' 
 
 So Molly crept stealthily through the
 
 MOLLY TAKES HER LITTLE-GO 241 
 
 passage to Miss Piggott's room, which was at 
 the further end of the gallery. She went 
 in the dark, and Dorothy followed behind 
 with the tea-kettle and Mr. Brackenbury's 
 hat. 
 
 In the passage just outside Molly ran 
 against Adela. 
 
 4 Oh,' she said sharply, 'you are here! I 
 have been looking everywhere to find you. 
 Wherever have you been all the evening ?' 
 
 ' Oh,' said Molly, without a bit of her 
 accustomed spirit, ' I have been looking for 
 Jack.' 
 
 ' That's all nonsense !' said the elder Miss 
 Gray, with, I fear, some asperity. ' I have 
 been on the river with Mr. Fellowes and Jack 
 all the evening, and we've been looking for 
 you everywhere !' 
 
 ' On the river ?' repeated M oily 1 feebly. 'I 
 — I have been waiting for Jack for hours at 
 Grantchester Bridge !' 
 
 vol. 1. 16
 
 242 THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 ' At Grantchester Bridge ? when you knew 
 all the time he had gone in the opposite 
 direction ! We have been up to Baitsbite. 
 Jack's instructions were quite clear. I heard 
 him tell that Mr. — Mr. Brackenbury to ask 
 you to walk up the Backs and wait for us at 
 Trinity Bridge.' 
 
 At Trinity Bridge ! And he had taken her in 
 exactly the opposite direction. Oh, it was 
 base ! 
 
 ' There must have been some misunder- 
 standing/ she said hurriedly, slipping by 
 Adela into the safe shelter of Dorothy 
 Piggott's room. ' I — I thought he said Grant- 
 chester.' 
 
 She wouldn't have owned for the world 
 that Mr. Brackenbury had deceived her — 
 wilfully deceived her — and taken her up that 
 dark river alone, in the night, to — to — to 
 drown her. 
 
 ' There couldn't have been any misunder-
 
 standing. It must have been wilful. And 
 you have only just come back ; you have been 
 out on the water, in the dark, with an almost 
 perfect stranger. Really, Molly, your im- 
 prudence is past all bounds — it is shameful ! 
 If Miss Godolphin hears of this you will 
 be sent down.' 
 
 1 I'm going down, dear, next week,' said 
 Molly sweetly ; ( I dare say she will let me 
 stay up till then.' 
 
 Adela stood on the threshold of Miss 
 Piggott's room while she found some cups 
 and saucers and made the tea ; but Dorothy 
 Piofofott did not ask her to come in. 
 
 ' 1 am so sorry,' she explained, 'that I 
 cannot ask you to have a cup of tea; but 
 we've got nothing but a stale bun between us.' 
 
 They were making merry over this dainty, 
 when Adela' s steps were heard returning, and 
 opening the door just enough to put her head 
 in, she said: 
 
 16—2
 
 244 THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 ' Oh, Mr. Fellowes is going to write to you 
 to-night, Molly ; I thought you would like to 
 know.' 
 
 ' How lovely ! I shall be dreaming of it all 
 night. Thanks so much for telling me, dear. 
 How kind of you to come back V 
 
 But Adela had not waited to hear the end 
 of the sentence; she had slammed the door 
 to sharply, and returned down the passage 
 quicker than she came back. 
 
 It would never do to let Adela know 
 anything about the accident. 
 
 Keith Fellowes was as good as his word. 
 He wrote Molly a delightful letter, which 
 Miss Piggott brought to her in bed the follow- 
 ing morning, just as she was starting for her 
 last Tripos examination. 
 
 ' God bless you, dear !' said Molly, drawing 
 her face down to the pillow ; ' God bless you 
 and reward you for all your kindness, you 
 loyal, true old Dolly ! It was horrid of me
 
 MOLLY TAKES HER LITTLE-GO 245 
 
 to come and upset you on this last night, and 
 pat everything out of your head ; but I'm 
 sure if it isn't the best way to prepare for 
 an exam., it isn't — the — the — worst.' And 
 then Molly kissed her, and when Dorothy 
 Piggott lifted her face up from the pillow 
 there were tears wet upon it. 
 
 Molly read her letter when she had gone 
 out. Her eyes were so full of tears that she 
 read it through a shining mist, in which the 
 words seemed to swim before her. There was 
 only one line she could see at all plainly, and 
 her tears magnified it, and drew a halo round 
 it. 
 
 1 My darling !' 
 
 It shone so that it might have been 
 illuminated in gold. ' My darling !' 
 
 The lover's vocabulary is very limited. It 
 is always ' My darling ! My darling !' 
 There is very little a lover has to say, and 
 he says it a great many times over, and in a
 
 246 THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 great many different ways ; but it all comes 
 to the same thins:. It is all variations of one 
 simple story — the old, old story — ' my 
 darling !' 
 
 The Junior Dean hadn't very much to say. 
 He hadn't a word of reproof. He had been 
 disappointed at not seeing ' my darling ' on 
 the river the previous night, but he was sure 
 she was at home working hard for her 
 dreaded exam. His letter was full of en- 
 couragement and sympathy and good wishes. 
 There was nothing said about prayers, but 
 Molly was quite certain that he was praying 
 for hei. Perhaps he was praying for her at 
 that very moment when the boat tipped over 
 and she was struggling in the dark river ! 
 
 She kissed the dear little letter and wept 
 over it, and made all the lines run into each 
 other, and declared that she was the luckiest 
 girl in the world in having won the love of 
 the best, the noblest, the dearest fellow that
 
 MOLLY TAKES HER LITTLE-GO 247 
 
 ever lived, and that she ought to be the 
 happiest ! 
 
 She wasn't at all happy all through that 
 miserable day. She didn't go out of doors, 
 but sat in her wretched, damp room, that 
 looked like a laundry, working for her 
 exam, that was to begin on the morrow. 
 Every footfall on the passage outside made 
 her cheek flame ; every rap at her door made 
 her heart leap into her mouth. She expected 
 to be summoned every moment into Miss 
 Godolphin's awful presence. 
 
 She couldn't be sure that Adela wouldn't 
 tell her all about that boating on the Granta 
 in the dark. 
 
 Miss Piggott came in from her Tripos 
 examination as fresh as a rose. 
 
 ' Was it very horrid, dear ?' Molly asked, 
 as she came smiling into the room. 
 
 1 It wasn't the least horrid. I did all the 
 paper — and — and — I could have done more.
 
 248 THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 It isn't nearly so dreadful an examination as 
 the men make it out. It's nothing to make a 
 fuss about.' 
 
 < Oh, Dolly |» 
 
 Molly was thinking of her poor little 
 Previous that was coming off to-morrow, 
 and what a mountain it was to her ; and the 
 tears gathered in her eyes. She wasn't given 
 to tears ; but her nerves were upset, and she 
 wasn't quite herself yet. 
 
 Miss Piggott saw in a moment how 
 matters stood, and, instead of taking her 
 well-earned rest, she threw off her hat and 
 gloves, and sat down beside Molly. 
 
 ' Oh, you poor dear,' she said, ' let me see 
 if I can help you.' 
 
 She mercilessly erased Molly's futile little 
 diagrams, and smoothed and explained the 
 dark, difficult problems that had been exer- 
 cising her mind all the morning. 
 
 ' You see, dear, it's like this — and this.'
 
 MOLLY TAKES HER LITTLE-GO 249 
 
 And the great mathematician scribbled away 
 a series of figures which quite dazed Molly 
 with their rapidity. 
 
 ' Oh yes, dear, I see ; thank you, oh so 
 much !' 
 
 But she didn't see a bit ; the explanation 
 puzzled her more than the problem itself: 
 and she wanted to tell Dorothy Piggott about 
 that nice letter from her lover, and, perhaps, 
 read her a little bit of it. 
 
 Miss Piggott never got love-letters of her 
 own, but she did not object to reading other 
 people's. 
 
 Molly went in for her Little-go examina- 
 tion the next day ; but she put all those 
 damp clothes out of sight before she went. 
 
 It was a very trying day, for it took in 
 Paley. Now, the Junior Dean had coached 
 Molly in Paley, and she ought to have been 
 very well up in it. Certain tender passages 
 had occurred at intervals in the coaching, and
 
 2So THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 these served as milestones, or landmarks, 
 whereby she groped her way through the 
 questions. 
 
 Then came an awful paper on Euclid, which 
 brought the tears into her eyes. The next 
 day things were not a bit better, for it 
 embraced the subject that was Molly's pet 
 aversion. She hated the low cunning of 
 algebra. The third clay she was happier, 
 for the Greek paper on the Gospel was not 
 particularly stiff, and the Greek author she 
 had alreadv done in her entrance exam. She 
 was very grateful for that entrance exam, 
 now. Oh, how it smoothed the way in that 
 horrid Greek grammar paper ! 
 
 She very much wanted to jump when the 
 last exam, was over, and she had floundered 
 through the unprepared translations : it is 
 not usual for Newnham girls to jump in 
 King's Parade, so she had to strain her 
 big dictionary to her bosom and repress
 
 MOLLY TAKES HER LITTLE-GO 251 
 
 her emotions until she reached her own 
 room, or at least Dorothy Piggott's room, 
 and relieved her pent-up feelings in her 
 sympathetic arms. 
 
 ' I know I've failed,' she sobbed : l I'm 
 quite sure I shall be plucked — but I don't 
 care ! I'm going to be married next year — 
 and — and Keith will love me just as well 
 whether I have passed the Little-go or not !' 
 
 Perhaps he would. The Junior Dean 
 wasn't a bit particular whether Molly knew 
 any mathematics or not. He would like her 
 to know something of Paley. 
 
 The one woman by whom he measured 
 all others knew a great deal of Paley, but 
 she did not know a single problem of 
 Euclid. 
 
 It is a very good thing, and it is certainly 
 very wisely ordered, that the results of exami- 
 nations are not known immediately. Suffi- 
 cient time is allowed for the mind to recover
 
 252 THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 its balance ; to view the situation more calmly ; 
 to regard the issues not with that morbid 
 sense of finality with which one is prone to 
 accept an adverse judgment. 
 
 So much time is allowed in some cases that 
 the mind has not only leisure to recover its 
 elasticity, but it becomes absolutely indifferent 
 as to the results. But this does not apply to 
 University examinations, the results of which 
 are known quite soon enough. Much too 
 soon, indeed, for some ! The lists are posted 
 day after day on the doors of the Senate 
 House, and those who have courage to face 
 the results of their labour — or idleness — climb 
 with beating hearts the fateful steps, and spell 
 through the long lists as well as their eyes will 
 allow them. 
 
 But eyes are not always to be trusted. 
 Many men have turned away sick at heart, 
 and been congratulated by their friends before 
 they have reached the bottom step. They
 
 MOLLY TAKES HER LITTLE-GO 253 
 
 couldn't read their own names, especially if 
 they happened to be where they wouldn't 
 have looked for them — near the top ! 
 
 A woman wouldn't have been so silly. She 
 would have begun naturally at the beginning, 
 and gone steadilv through the list. If she 
 hadn't found what she wanted, she would have 
 gone through it over again. Oh no ! a 
 woman wouldn't be so easily convinced. 
 
 The Mathematical Tripos list is read out in 
 the Senate House, so there can be no mistake 
 about that. 
 
 All Newnham — ay, and all Girton, too ; 
 the students of the women's colleges are 
 nothing if not loyal — had built their hopes 
 upon Miss Piggott. She would be sure to be 
 Senior Wrangler. There was not an under- 
 graduate in Cambridge that would have the 
 slightest chance with her. Gloves by the 
 dozen were bet upon the result, and there was 
 a rumour — vaffue and dim — in those Yestal
 
 254 THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 recesses that men were taking odds — not in 
 gloves — upon it. 
 
 Miss Piggott herself was, perhaps, less 
 moved than anyone else at Newnham, as the 
 days slowly wore on. She was more anxious 
 about Molly's poor little exam, than she was 
 about her own. She encouraged and sustained 
 her sinking spirits, and almost dragged her 
 every day of the exam, up to the dreaded 
 doors, and dismissed her with a farewell pat 
 on the shoulder, and the most encouraging 
 words she could think of. 
 
 She would have thrown her slipper in after 
 her, but the examiners might have objected, 
 and she would have had to walk back to 
 Newnham barefoot. 
 
 It was all over now. What was done was 
 done, and couldn't be recalled. All the mis- 
 takes, and the failures, and miserable blunders 
 had been made. The examiners had found 
 them all out, and counted them all up — not
 
 MOLLY TAKES HER LLTTLE-GO 255 
 
 one had escaped them — and it was as well to 
 prepare for the worst. 
 
 Molly told herself all this, and, by way of 
 diversion, went to the boat-races. 
 
 The whole place reeked of examinations, 
 and it was a distinct relief to pull down to 
 Ditton in a boat, or to drive down in a brake 
 and watch the delightful hurly-burly of the 
 races, and see the bumps being made from the 
 Rectory meadow. 
 
 Molly would have liked to go down in a 
 boat and get into the scrimmage coming back, 
 but Mrs. Gray willed otherwise, and carried off 
 her favourite niece in a carriage, behind a hio'h- 
 stepping pair of horses, to Ditton Corner. 
 
 Adela was not of the party ; she had basely 
 seceded at the last moment, and joined Miss 
 Godolphin and the Xewnham girls, who had 
 gone over in a brake. 
 
 Molly was not happy in her exalted position. 
 She would a thousand times rather have been
 
 256 THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 squeezed into the brake beside Dorothy 
 Piggott. She wore a pink gown — a de- 
 lightful pale tender pink that matched her 
 complexion. She was looking exactly like a 
 rose — a blushing, palpitating June rose. All 
 the men turned and looked after her as she 
 hurried through the classic greenery of the 
 Backs and across the college courts on her 
 way to Mrs. Gray's. 
 
 But nobody looked at her at Ditton. She 
 was extinguished — sat upon. The wife of the 
 tutor of Clare had arrayed herself in that 
 horrid magenta gown, and she wouldn't wear 
 a scrap of black lace to cover it. It put out 
 Molly's dainty little rosebud frock completely ; 
 it made it look hideous. 
 
 Molly could have cried with vexation. 
 She was sure Adela had persuaded her aunt 
 to put it on on purpose ; she had assured 
 her that Mrs. Gray was going to wear her 
 black satin, and Molly had congratulated
 
 MOLLY TAKES HER LITTLE-GO 257 
 
 herself on the anticipated effect ; and there 
 was Adela and a whole brakeful of Newnham 
 girls enjoying her discomfiture. 
 
 She didn't see anything of the races ; she 
 didn't care a bit about them. She had no 
 interest in St. Stephen's boat. Jack hadn't 
 treated her well ; and she was so angry with 
 Mr. Brackenbury that she was very glad 
 when she heard that they had just missed a 
 bump. She had no patience with the fuss 
 people were making — the shouting and the 
 bell-ringing, the din of fearful instruments, 
 the frantic yells and outcries of the men 
 running beside their boats on the bank, and 
 the wild bursts of applause and enthusiasm 
 that greeted every bump. 
 
 She had arranged herself very nicely, at a 
 given signal, to be photographed, when just 
 at the critical moment some idiot in front 
 put up a sunshade and extinguished her. 
 
 It was by no means a nice day. In the 
 
 vol. 1. 17
 
 258 THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 evening was the college concert, and Mrs. 
 Gray chaperoned her nieces and Miss Piggott. 
 Even then Molly was not happy. Of course 
 she looked lovely : she couldn't help looking 
 lovely. Can a rose help being sweet % Her 
 eyes had never been brighter, nor her lovely 
 complexion more transparent, and just suf- 
 ficiently flushed — that sweet, palpitating 
 April colour, coming and going, that sets 
 rouge at defiance. She didn't wear pink, 
 but she wore something diaphanous and 
 cloud-like. She looked an ethereal creature 
 made up of smiles, bright eyes, flowers and 
 airy colour. 
 
 Everybody ought to have bowed down to 
 her and worshipped her — she was by far the 
 prettiest girl in the room — and here were 
 all the men ignoring her and having no eyes 
 for anybody but Dorothy Piggott. 
 
 Miss Piggott was not looking her best. She 
 had been much too busy all the term working
 
 MOLLY TAKES HER LITTLE-GO 259 
 
 for her Tripos to order a new evening gown, 
 and now, among all these fresh toilettes, she 
 looked decidedly dowdy. She had dressed in 
 a hurry, and gathered her hair off her face 
 into a little ugly knot ; and she hadn't a 
 trinket about her. And here were all the 
 men staring at her, and leaving poor Molly 
 out in the cold ! 
 
 The Junior Dean came forward and found 
 them seats — not at all nice seats — in a decided 
 draught and under the gallery, and where 
 everybody that passed trod on Molly's frock: 
 — made a carpet of it. 
 
 She hadn't seen her lover for a week — not 
 since her exam., not since the accident — and 
 he might have stayed a few moments with 
 her, if only just to say ' My darling !' But 
 he happened to be one of the stewards, and 
 he had to fly away — limp away, rather — to 
 find somebody else a place, and to attend to 
 his duties. She hadn't seen Jack or Mr. 
 
 17—2
 
 260 THE JUNIOR DEAN 
 
 Brackenbury since that dreadful night. It 
 had been such a week of excitements that 
 everything had been merged into the current 
 topics. 
 
 Probably Jack had forgotten all about it, 
 and it was not likely that Mr. Brackenbury 
 would talk about it. He came and sat down 
 behind her during the evening, and for a 
 moment a panic seized her lest he should 
 speak about it before her aunt and Adela. 
 
 ' I am glad to see you are none the worse 
 for the wetting/ he said in a low voice, over 
 her shoulder. 
 
 And then she turned round on the pretence 
 of gathering her gown up, and looked at 
 him. 
 
 ' No,' she said, with a look that he could 
 almost feel ; ' I am none the worse. It was 
 nothing — it is not worth mentioning.' 
 
 He was not accustomed to be snubbed by 
 women. It was not the words, but the look
 
 MOLLY TAKES HER LITTLE-GO 261 
 
 that Molly gave him in that brief moment, 
 that cut Mr. Brackenbury to the heart. He 
 had rather congratulated himself on his 
 heroic, not to say chivalrous, conduct on that 
 memorable night ; but if it had all to be gone 
 over again — the inward conflict (his boat 
 had not made the bump, after all), the cap- 
 sizing, the struggle in the dark water — the 
 result, he told himself, with a black fume of 
 naughty, disjointed words, would be different 
 — fat all v different ! 
 
 END OF VOL. I. 
 
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 26 
 
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 LISTS OF BOOKS CLASSIFIED IN SERIES. 
 
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 THE MAYFAIR LIBRARY. 
 A Journey Round My Room. By Xavier 
 
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 Quips and Quiddities. Bv W. D. Adams. 
 The Agony Column of "The Times." 
 Melancholy Anatomised: Abridgment of 
 
 " Burton's Anatomy ot Melancholy." 
 The Speeches of Charles Dickens. 
 Literary Frivolities, Fancies, Follies, 
 
 and Frolics. By W. T. Dobson. 
 Poetical Ingenuities. By W. T. Dobson. 
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 Ourselves. By E. Lynn Linton. 
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 New Republic. By W. H. Mallock. 
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 Pegasus Re-Saddled. By H. C. Pennell. 
 Muses of Mayfatr. Ed. H. C. Pennell. 
 Thoreau : His Life & Aims. By H. A. Page. 
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 Story of London Parks. Jacob Larwood. 
 London Characters. By Henry Mayhew. 
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 Harry Fludyer at Cambridge. 
 Jeff Briggs's Love Story. Bret Harte. 
 Twins of Table Mountain. Bret Harte. 
 A Day's Tour. By Percy Fitzgerald. 
 Esther's Glove. By R. E. Francillon. 
 Sentenced! By Somerville Gibney. 
 The Professor's Wife. By L.Graham. 
 Mrs. Gainsborough's Diamonds. By 
 
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 Niagara Spray. By J. Hollingshead. 
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 The Garden that Paid the Rent. By 
 
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 Burglars in Paradise. By E. S. Phelps. 
 Jack the Fisherman. By E. S. Phelps. 
 Trooping with Crows. By C. L. Pirkis. 
 Bible Characters. By Charles Reade. 
 Rogues. By R. H. Sherard. 
 The Dagonet Reciter. By G. R. Sims. 
 How the Poor Live. By G. R. Sims. 
 Case of George Candlemas. G. R. Sims 
 Sandycroft Mystery. T. VV. Speight. 
 Hoodwinked. By T. W. Speight. 
 Father Damien. By R. L. Stf.venson. 
 A Double Bond. By Linda Villari. 
 My Life with Stanley's Rear Guard. By 
 Herbert Ward.
 
 CHATTO & WINDUS, 214, PICCADILLY. 
 
 27 
 
 MY LIBRARY. 
 
 Choice Works, printed on laid paper, bound half-Roxburg'ie, 2*. 6«1. each. 
 Four Frenchwomen. By A-stin Dobson. I Christie Johnstone. By CkarlesReade. 
 Citation and Examination of William With a Photogravure Front spiece 
 
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 The Essays of Elia. By Charles Lamb, i 
 Robinson Crusoe. Edited by John Major. 
 
 With 37 Ihusts by George Cruiksh^nk. | 
 Whims and Oddities. By Thomas Hood. 
 
 With 8^ Illustrations. 
 The Barber's Chair, and The Hedgehog 
 
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 Gastronomy as a Fine Art. By Brillat- 
 
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 printed on laid paper and hf -bd., 2«i. ea;h. 
 The Epicurean, &c. By Thomas Moore. 
 Leigh Hunt's Essays. Ed E. Ollier. 
 The Natural History of Selborne. By 
 
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 Gulliver's Travels, and The Tale of a 
 
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 The Rivals, School for Scandal, and other 
 
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 Anecdotes of the Clergy. T. Larwood. 
 
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 Library Editions of Novels by the Best Authors, many Illustrated, 
 crown 8vo. cloth extra, 3s. 6d. each. 
 
 By GRANT ALLE.X. 
 
 Philistia. I For Maimie's Sake. 
 
 Babylon I The Devil's Die. 
 
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 By ALAN ST. AUBYN. 
 A Fellow of Trinity. 
 
 By Bcr. S. BAKING GOULD. 
 Red Spider. | Eve. 
 
 By W. BE8ANT & J. KICK. 
 
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 Monks of Thelema. 
 The Seamy Side. 
 Ten Years' Tenant. 
 
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 Case of Mr.Lucraft 
 This Son of Yulcan 
 Golden Butterfly. 
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 'Twas in Trafalgar's Bay. 
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 All Sorts and Conditions of Men. 
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 All in a Garden Fair 
 The World Went Yery Well Then, 
 For Faith and Freedom. 
 
 To Call Her Mine. 
 The Holy Rose. 
 Armorel of Lyon- 
 esse. 
 
 Dorothy Forster. 
 Uncle Jack. 
 Children of Gibeon. 
 Herr Paulas. 
 Bell of St. Paul's. 
 
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 A Child of Nature. 
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 Foxglove Manor. 
 Master of the Mine. 
 Heir of Linne. 
 
 God and the Man. 
 Love Me for Ever, 
 Annan Water. 
 Matt. 
 
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 The Shadow of a Crime. 
 A Son of Hagar. | The Deemster. 
 MORT. & FRANCES COLLINS, 
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 From Midnight to Midnight. 
 Blacksmith and Scholar. 
 Yillage Comedy, j You Play Me False 
 
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 Juliet's Guardian. [ Deceivers Ever. 
 By WILKIE COLLINS. 
 
 Armadale. 
 Aftar Dark. 
 No Name. 
 Antonina. | Basil. 
 Hide and Seek. 
 The Dead Secret. 
 Queen of Hearts. 
 My Miscellanies. 
 Woman in White. 
 The Moonstone. 
 Man and Wife. 
 Poor Miss Finch. 
 Miss or Mrs? 
 New Magdalen. 
 
 The Frozen Deep. 
 The Two Destinies. 
 Law and the Lady. 
 Haunted Hotel. 
 The Fallen Leaves. 
 Jezebel's Daughter. 
 The Black Robe. 
 Heart and Science. 
 "I Say No." 
 Little Novels. 
 The Evil Genius. 
 The Legacy of Cain 
 A Rogue's Life. 
 Biind Love. 
 
 By BUTTON COOK. 
 
 Paul Foster's Daughter. 
 
 By WILLIAM CYPLES. 
 
 Hearts of Gold. 
 
 ByALPHONSE BAUOET. 
 
 The Evangelist ; or, Port Salvation. 
 
 By JAMES BE MILLE. 
 
 A Castle in Spain. 
 
 By J. LEITH BERWENT. 
 
 Our Lady of Tears. | Circe's Lovers. 
 
 By Mrs. ANNIE EDWARDES. 
 
 Archie Lovell. 
 
 By PERCY FITZGERALD. 
 
 Fatal Zero. 
 
 By R. E. FRANCILLON. 
 
 Queen Cophetua. I A Rsal Queen. 
 One by One. | King or Knave? 
 
 Pre!, by Sir BARTLE FKERE. 
 
 Pandurang Hari. 
 
 By EB \V 1RD CJ* "JRETT, 
 
 The Capel Girls.
 
 23 
 
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 The Piccadilly (3/6) Novels— continued. 
 
 By CHARLES GIBBON. 
 Robin Gray. I The Golden Shaft. 
 
 In Honour Bound. | Of High Degree. 
 Loying a Dream. 
 The Flower of the Forest. 
 
 By JULIAN HAWTHORNE. 
 
 Garth. I Dust. 
 
 Ellice Quentin. Fortune's Fool. 
 
 Sebastian Strome. | Beatrix Randolph. 
 David Poindexter's Disappearance. 
 The Spectre of the Camera. 
 
 By Sir A. HELPS. 
 Ivan de Biron. 
 
 By ISAAC HENDERSON. 
 Agatha Page. 
 
 By Mrs. ALFRED HUNT. 
 The Deaden Casket. | Self-Condemned. 
 That other Person. 
 
 By JEAN INGELOW. 
 Fated to be Free. 
 
 By R. ASHE KING. 
 A Drawn Game. 
 •'The Wearing of the Green." 
 
 By HENRY KING8LEY. 
 Number Seventeen. 
 
 By E. LYNN LINTON. 
 Patricia Kemball. I lone. 
 Under which Lord? Paston Carew. 
 "My Love!" I Sowing the Wind. 
 
 The Atonement of Learn Dundas. 
 The World Well Lost. 
 
 By HENRY W. LUCY. 
 Gideon Fleyce. 
 
 By justin McCarthy. 
 
 A Fair Saxon. I Donna Quixote. 
 Linley Rochford. Maid of Athens. 
 Miss Misanthrope. | Camiola. 
 The Waterdale Neighbours. ; 
 My Enemy's Daughter. 
 Dear Lady Disdain. 
 The Comet of a Season. 
 
 By AGNES MACBONELL. 
 Quaker Cousins. 
 
 By FLORENCE MARRYAT. 
 
 Open! Sesame! 
 
 By B. CHRISTIE MURRAY. 
 
 Life's Atonement. I Coals of Fire. 
 
 Joseph's Coat. Yal Strange. 
 
 A Model Father. | Hearts* 
 
 A Bit of Human Nature. 
 
 First Person Singular. 
 
 Cynic Fortune. 
 
 The Way of the World. 
 
 By MURRAY & HERMAN. 
 
 The Bishops' Bible. 
 
 By GEORGES OHNET. 
 
 A Weird Gift, 
 
 The Piccadilly (3/6) Novels— continued. 
 
 By Mrs. OLIPHANT. 
 
 Whiteladies. 
 
 By OUIBA. 
 
 Held in Bondage. 
 
 Strathmore. 
 
 Chandos. 
 
 Under Two Flags. 
 
 Idalia. 
 
 CecilCastlemaine's 
 
 Gage. 
 Tricotrin. | Puck. 
 Folle Farine. 
 A Dog of Flanders. 
 Pascarel. I Signa. 
 Princess Haprax- 
 
 ine. 
 
 Two Little Wooden 
 Shoes. 
 
 In a Winter City. 
 
 Ariadne. 
 
 Friendship. 
 
 Moths. I Rufflno. 
 
 Pipistrello. 
 
 A Village Commune 
 
 Bimbi. | Wanda. 
 
 Frescoes. 
 
 In Maremma. 
 
 Othmar. | Syrlin. 
 
 Guilderoy. 
 By MARGARET A. PAUL. 
 Gentle and Simple. 
 
 By JAMES PAYN. 
 Lost Sir Massingberd. 
 Less Black than We're Painted. 
 A Confidential Agent. 
 A Grape from a Thorn. 
 Some Private Yiews. 
 In Peril and Privation. 
 The Mystery of Mirbridge. 
 The Canon's Ward. 
 
 Talk of the Town. 
 Holiday Tasks. 
 The Burnt Million. 
 The Word and the 
 
 Will. 
 Sunny Stories. 
 PRICE. 
 
 Walter's Word. 
 By Proxy. 
 High Spirits. 
 Under One Roof. 
 From Exile. 
 Glow-worm Tales. 
 By E. C 
 Yalentina. j The Foreigners. 
 
 Mrs. Lancaster's Rival. 
 
 By CHARLES REABE. 
 It is Never Too Late to Mend. 
 The Double Marriage. 
 Love Me Little, Love Me Long. 
 The Cloister and the Hearth. 
 The Course of True Love. 
 The Autobiography of a Thief. 
 Put Yourself in his Place. 
 A Terrible Temptation. 
 Singleheart and Doubleface. 
 Good Stories of Men and other Animals* 
 Hard Cash. Wandering Heir. 
 
 Peg Woffington. A Woman-Hater, 
 ChristieJohnstone. A Simpleton, 
 Griffith Gaunt. Readiana. 
 
 Foul Play. The Jilt. 
 
 By Mrs. J. H. RIBBELL. 
 Her Mother's Darling. 
 Prince of Wales's Garden Party. 
 Weird Stories. 
 
 By F. W. ROBINSON. 
 Women are Strange. 
 The Hands of Justice. 
 
 By W. CLARK RUSSELL. 
 An Ocean Tragedy. 
 My Shipmate Louise. 
 
 By JOHN SAUNBERS. 
 Guy Waterman. | Two Dreamers. 
 Bound to the Wheel. 
 The Lion in the Path.
 
 CHATTO & WINDUS, 214, PICCADILLY. 
 
 2^ 
 
 The Piccadilly (3/6) Novels— continued. 
 By KATDAB1XE SAl^DERS. 
 
 Margaret and Elizabeth. 
 
 Gideon's Rock. I Heart Salvage. 
 
 The High Mills. | Sebastian. 
 
 By HAWLEY SJUBT. 
 
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 Anne Furness. | Mabel's Progress. 
 
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 Frau Frohmann. I Kept in the Dark. 
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 Mistress Judith. 
 
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 Noblesse Oblige. | Buried Diamonds, 
 The Blackhall Ghosts. 
 
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 Maruja. | Gabriel Conroy. 
 
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 By HAROLD BRIDGES. 
 
 Uncle Sam at Home. 
 
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 The Shadow of the j The Martyrdom o 
 
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 Love Me for Ever. Matt. 
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 The Shadow of a Crime. 
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 For the Love of a Lass. 
 
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 Paul Ferroll. 
 Why Paul Ferroll Killed his Wife. 
 
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 The Cure of Souls. 
 
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 Tha Bar Sinister. 
 
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 Frances. You Play me False, 
 
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 Fettered for Life. 
 Between Life and Death. 
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 Grantley Grange. 
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 Monks of Thelema. 
 The Seamy Side. 
 Ten Years' Tenant. 
 
 ThisSonofYulcan. 
 My Little Girl. 
 Case of Mr.Lucraft. 
 Golden Butterfly. 
 Ready-Money Mortiboy. 
 With Harp and Crown. 
 'Twas in Trafalgar's Bay. 
 The Chaplain of the Fleet. 
 
 By WALTER BESA.NT. 
 Dorothy Forster. I Uncle Jack. 
 Children of Gibeon. | Herr Paulus. 
 All Sorts and Conditions of Men. 
 The Captains' Room. 
 All in a Garden Fair. 
 The World Went Yery Well Then. 
 For Faith and Freedom. 
 
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 Camp Notes. | Savage Life. 
 
 Chronicles of No-man's Land.
 
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 Two- Shilling Novels— continued. 
 
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 Armadale. My Miscellanies. 
 
 After Dark. Woman in White. 
 
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 Antonina. | Basil. Man and Wife. 
 Hide and Seek. Poor Miss Finch. 
 The Dead Secret. The Fallen Leaves. 
 Queen of Hearts. Jezebel's Daughter 
 Miss or Mrs ? The Black Robe. 
 
 New Magdalen. Heart and Science. 
 The Frozen Deep. "I Say No." 
 Law and the Lady. The Evil Genius. 
 The Two Destinies. Little Novels. 
 Haunted Hotel. Legacy of Cain. 
 A Rogue's Life. Blind Love. 
 
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 Every Inch a Soldier. 
 
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 Leo. I Paul Foster's Daughter. 
 
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 Prophet of the Great Smoky Mountains. 
 
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 Hearts of Gold. 
 
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 The Evangelist; or, Port Salvation. 
 
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 A Castle in Spain. 
 
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 Our Lady of Tears. | Circe's Lovers. 
 
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 Sketches by Boz. I Oliver Twist. 
 Pickwick Papers. | Nicholas Nickleby. 
 
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 The Man-Hunter. | Caught at Last ! 
 
 Tracked and Taken. 
 
 Who Poisoned Hetty Duncan? 
 
 The Man from Manchester. 
 
 A Detective's Triumphs. 
 
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 Strange Secrets. 
 
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 A Point of Honour. | Archie Lovell. 
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 Felicia. | Kitty. 
 
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 Roxy. 
 
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 Bella Donna. I Polly. 
 
 Never Forgotten. | Fatal Zero. 
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 Seventy -five Brooke Street. 
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 ALBANY DE FONBLANQUE. 
 Filthy Lucre. 
 
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 Olympia. I Queen Cophetua. 
 
 One by One. King or Knave? 
 
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 Seth's Brother's Wife. 
 
 The Lawton Girl. 
 
 I»ref. 3>y Sir BARTLE FRERE. 
 
 Pandurang Hari, 
 
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 The Capel Girls. 
 
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 Robin Gray. 
 Fancy Free. 
 For Lack of Gold. 
 What will the 
 
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 In Love and War. 
 For the King. 
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 Braes of Yarrow. 
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 Mead and Stream. 
 Loving a Dream. 
 A Hard Knot. 
 Heart's Delight. 
 
 Queen of Meadow 
 
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 Dr. Austin's Guests. I James Duke. 
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 Ivan de Biron. 
 
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 The House of Raby. 
 
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 'Twixt Love and Duty. 
 
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 Thornicroft's Model. I Self Condemned. 
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 Fated to be Free. 
 
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 31 
 
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 By HENRY KL\GSLEY. 
 Oakshott Castle. 
 
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 The Lindsays. 
 
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 In Exchange for a Soul. 
 
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 Patricia Kemball. | Paston Carew. 
 World Well Lost. "My Love!" 
 Under which Lord? I lone. 
 The Atonement of Leani Dundas. 
 With a Silken Thread. 
 The Rebel of tne Family. 
 Sowing the Wind. 
 
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 Gideon Fleyce. 
 
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 Linley Rochford. Maid of Athens. 
 Miss Misanthrope. | Camiola. 
 Dear Lady Disdain. 
 The Waterdale Neighbours. 
 My Enemy's Daughter. 
 The Comet of a Season. 
 
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 Quaker Cousins. 
 
 KATHARINE 8. MAC«*UOIB. 
 The Evil Eye. | Lost Rose. 
 
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 The New Republic. 
 
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 Open! Sesame! | Fighting the Air 
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 Written in Fire. 
 
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 Half a-dozan Daughters. 
 
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 A Secret of the Sea. 
 
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 Touch and Go. | Mr. Dorillion. 
 
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 Hathercourt Rectory. 
 
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 Joseph's Coat. Hearts. 
 
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 Yal Strange. Cynic Fortune. 
 
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 By the Gate of the Sea. 
 
 A Bit of Human Nature. 
 
 first Person Singular. 
 
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 One Traveller Returns. 
 Paul Jones's Alias. 
 
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 A Game of Bluff. 
 
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 The Greatest Heiress in England. 
 
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 Phoebe's Fortunes. 
 
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 Held in Bondage. 
 
 Strathmore. 
 
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 Under Two Flags. 
 
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 Tricotrin. 
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 Folle Farine. 
 A Dog of Flanders. 
 Pascarel. 
 Signa. 
 Princess Naprax- 
 
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 In a Winter City. 
 
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 Ariadne. 
 
 Friendship. 
 
 Moths. 
 
 Pipistrello. 
 
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 Wanda. 
 
 Frescoes. 
 
 In Maremma. 
 
 Othmar. 
 
 Guilderoy. 
 
 Ouida's Wisdom, 
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 Marine Residence. 
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 Carlyon's Year. 
 From Exile. 
 For Cash Onlv. 
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 The Canon's Ward 
 Talk of the Town. 
 Holiday Tasks. 
 
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 Gentle and Simple. 
 
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 Eentinck's Tutor. ! £200 Reward. 
 
 Murphy's Master. 
 
 A County Family. 
 
 At Her Mercy. 
 
 Cecil's Tryst. 
 
 Clyffards of Clyffe. 
 
 Foster Brothers. 
 
 Found Dead. 
 
 Best of Husbands. 
 
 Walter's Word. 
 
 Halves. 
 
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 Lost Sir Massingberd 
 
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 Married Beneath Him. 
 
 Not Wooed, but Won. 
 
 Less Black than We're Painted.' 
 
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 Some Private Views. 
 
 A Grape from a Thorn. 
 
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 The Mystery of Mirbridge. 
 
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 Lady Lovelace. 
 
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 Yalentina. I The Foreigners. 
 
 Mrs. Lancaster's Rival. 
 
 Gerald.
 
 3 2 
 
 CHATTO Sc WINDUS, 214, PICCADILLY. 
 
 Two-Shilling Novels— continued. 
 
 By CHARLES BEADE. 
 ft is Never Too Late to Mend. 
 Christie Johnstone. 
 Put Yourself in His Place. 
 The Double Marriage, 
 love Me Little, Love Me Long. 
 The Cloister and the Hearth. 
 The Course of True Love. 
 Autobiography of a Thief. 
 A Terrible Temptation. 
 The Wandering Heir. 
 Singleheart and Doubleface. 
 Good Stories of Men and other Animals. 
 
 Hard Cash. 
 Peg Woffington. 
 Griffith Gaunt. 
 Foul Play. 
 
 A Simpleton. 
 
 Readiana. 
 
 A Woman-Hater. 
 
 The Jilt. 
 
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 Weird Stories. | Fairy Water. 
 
 Her Mother's Darling. 
 
 Prince of Wales's Garden Party. 
 
 The Uninhabited House. 
 
 The Mystery in Palace Gardens. 
 
 By F. W. ROBINSON. 
 
 Women are Strange. 
 The Hands of Justice. 
 
 By JAMES RUNCIMAN. 
 
 Skippers and Shellbacks. 
 Grace Balmaign's Sweetheart. 
 Schools and Scholars. 
 
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 Round the Galley Fire. 
 On the Fo'k'sle Head. 
 In the Middle Watch. 
 A Voyage to the Cape. 
 A Book for the Hammock. 
 The Mystery of the " Ocean Star." 
 The Romance of Jenny Harlowe. 
 An Ocean Tragedy. 
 GEOR6E AUGUSTUS SALA. 
 Gaslight and Daylight. 
 
 By JOHN SAUNDERS. 
 Guy Waterman. | Two Dreamers. 
 The Lion in the Path. 
 
 By KATHARINE SAUNDERS. 
 
 Joan Merryweather. I Heart Salvage. 
 The High Mills. | Sebastian. 
 Margaret and Elizabeth. 
 
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 Rogues and Vagabonds. 
 The Ring o' Bells. 
 Mary Jane's Memoirs. 
 Mary Jane Married. 
 Tales of To-day. | Dramas of Life. 
 Tinklctop's Crime. 
 
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 A Match in the Dark. 
 
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 The Mysteries of Heron Dyke. 
 
 The Golden Hoop. | By Devious Ways. 
 
 Hoodwinked, &c. 
 
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 The Afghan Knife. 
 
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 New Arabian Nights. | Prince Otto. 
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 Cressida. | Proud Maisie. 
 
 The Violin-player. 
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 Tales for the Marines. 
 Old Stories Re-told. 
 
 T. ADOLPHUS TROLLOPE. 
 
 Diamond Cut Diamond. 
 
 By F. ELEANOR TROLLOPE. 
 
 Like Ships upon the Sea. 
 
 Anne Furness. | Mabel's Progress. 
 
 By ANTHONY TROLLOPE. 
 
 Frau Frohmann. I Kept in the Dark« 
 
 Marion Fay. | John Caldigate. 
 
 The Way We Live Now. 
 
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 Mr. Scarborough's Family. 
 
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 The Golden Lion of Granpere. 
 
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 Farnell's Folly. 
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 Tom Sawyer. | A Tramp Abroad. 
 
 The Stolen White Elephant. 
 
 A Pleasure Trip on the Continent. 
 
 Huckleberry Finn. 
 
 Life on the Mississippi. 
 
 The Prince and the Pauper. 
 
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 Mistress Judith. 
 
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 The Bride's Pass. I Noblesse Oblige. 
 Buried Diamonds. | Disappeared. 
 Saint Mungo's City. Huguenot Family. 
 Lady Bell. | Blackhall Ghosts. 
 
 What She Came Through. 
 Beauty and the Beast. 
 Citoyenne Jaqueline. 
 
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 Cavalry Life. | Regimental Legends. 
 
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 The Passenger from Scotland Yard. 
 The Englishman of the Rue Cain. 
 
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 Sabina. 
 
 CELIA PARKER WOOIiliEY. 
 Rachel Armstrong ; or, Love & Theology 
 
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 The Forlorn Hope. | Land at Last. 
 Castaway. 
 
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