"We want to go to New College and 'The House,' but
we can't push off if you're going to come with us looking like that. For
Heaven's sake, go back to _The Mitre_ and get your own hat. Mr. Lewis,
won't you go and fix him up?"
Quick as a flash, Daphne threw her weight into the scale which I had
slung.
"Yes, do," she implored. "You know, you oughtn't to have let him come
out like that," she added, with a reproachful smile. "And then you can
join us a New College."
Our manoeuvre was successful beyond all expectation. His vanity
flattered, the gentleman addressed flung himself into the breach with
every manifestation of delight, and, seizing my brother-in-law by the
arm, haled him gleefully in the direction of The High, humouring his
obvious reluctance with the familiar assurances which one usually
associates with the persuasion of the unsober.
In silence we watched them till they had turned the corner. Then--
"Did I say New College?" said Daphne hurriedly.
"You did," said I. "So we'd better go straight to 'The House.'"
Three minutes later we were exploring my old rooms in Peckwater
Quadrangle, Christ Church.
* * * * *
In spite of its inauspicious beginning, we spent an enjoyable afternoon.
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