style="font-size:15px;"> "Marten is getting angry," was the only answer I received, and it was so near the truth that I wanted to pick him up and drop him in the passage.
Ward, however, calmed my feelings by saying that he could not imagine any one troubling to be angry with Dennison. "The one thing he prides himself on is getting a rise out of people, and we aren't such fools as he thinks us."
"And he is a much bigger fool than he thinks," Collier said solemnly.
"You are a nice complimentary lot," Dennison remarked, smiling amiably upon us.
"It's your own fault," Collier continued; "you try to be clever and succeed in being confoundedly dull. I was at school with him for five years and I know his only strong point is that the more you abuse him the more he likes you."
"I'm fairly in love with you, Coalheaver," Dennison said.
"Naturally, but you might forget that very witty name."
"I'm going," Lambert declared, "for I'm dining in hall, and if I don't go for a walk those kromeskis and quenelles will choke me."
"Half a minute," and Ward pushed Lambert back into his seat; "now we are all here, I think we had better arrange a freshers' wine. There always is one, and nobody will get it up if we don't, so I vote we do the thing properly."
Every one seemed to approve of the idea, but as I was no use at making arrangements I suggested that Ward should manage the whole business.
"I can order everything, but we must have a committee to choose the people we shall ask and all that part of it. We can't ask everybody," Ward said.
"Half of them won't come if we do. I should think we had better ask the whole lot, and then we shall know what they are made of," Lambert advised.
"We shan't have a room big enough to hold them," Collier said.
After that we all began to talk, and though I had only a hazy notion of what we decided, I heard enough to know that Ward and Dennison meant having this wine in about ten days and only intended to ask the freshers whom they liked.
CHAPTER IV
UNEXPECTED PEOPLE
The idea of working for Mr. Gilbert Edwardes never had much attraction for me, and for the first two or three weeks at Oxford I found it very difficult to satisfy him. However, the excuse that I took a long time to settle down in a fresh place did not seem as reasonable to him as it did to me, so I had to abandon it and try to appease him. The worst of him was that I never knew whether he was pleased or not; he accepted my most determined efforts at scholarship as a matter of course and reserved his eloquence for the occasions on which my work showed symptoms of haste. In less than a fortnight I felt that my tutor and I were watching each other, an element of distrust seemed to have sprung up; he took it for granted that I would do as little as possible, while I was searching for something which could tell me that he was human as well as learned.
I could not understand him in the least, for I had been accustomed to masters who talked about things of which I knew a little even if they were bored by doing so; but when I met Mr. Edwardes I felt that he belonged to the ice period, and that he would think the smallest thaw a waste of time.
I do like a human being, I mean a man who lets you know something about him and does not barricade himself against you. But a man who puts up the shutters in front of his virtues and faults bothers me most terribly, and I always seem to be bumping my head against something invisible whenever I see him, which is a most disconcerting performance.
Mr. Edwardes was also Murray's tutor, but Murray was not afflicted, as I was, with the desire to know people more than they wanted to be known, and he told me that if I would only take Edwardes as I found him we should get on together splendidly. In spite of Jack Ward, I saw Murray every day, and the more I knew of him the more I liked him. He was in my room one evening after Ward had arranged that we were to have a freshers' wine, and I asked him if he was coming to it.
"I can't go unless I am asked," he said, "and I shan't go now if I am asked."
I resolved to say a few things to Ward, but I did not know what to say to Murray.
"Ward is asking everybody he wants, isn't he?" he inquired.
"Yes it was left to him and Dennison, I believe."
"Then I am not likely to be invited, for he and I never could do anything but have rows with each other at Wellingham."
"What about?" I asked, for Murray had never said much about Ward to me and I wanted to hear his side of the quarrel.
"It isn't worth repeating," he answered. "I was head of the school and Ward thought a friend of his ought to have seen. He thinks I am a smug because I have to work, and I suppose I think he is a fool because he thinks I am a smug. He is a queer sort, and it is hopeless for me to try to be friends with him, even if I wanted to be, and I don't."
"He is a fairly good cricketer, isn't he?" I asked, for I had discovered that when Murray had once made up his mind no efforts of mine would change it.
"Yes, he would have got into the XI. quite easily only he was so slack, and the master who looked after our cricket couldn't stand him. It was rather a swindle that he didn't get into the team all the same."
"I hate slackers," I said, and to prove it I set to work on some Homer for Edwardes. Murray got his books and we slaved together for nearly two hours, when a most timid knock sounded on my door, and a man came in who seemed to be most fearfully nervous. He was carrying a gown and a cap in his hand, and he looked at Murray, who was not at all an alarming sight, as if he had encountered a wild man from one of those regions where wild men are bred. I had never had much practice at putting any one at their ease, for most people hit me on the back and call me "old fellow" far too soon; but I tried very hard to calm my visitor, and though it was six o'clock I asked him to have tea and every conceivable other thing I could think of, all of which he refused. He told me his name was Owen, but apart from that I knew nothing, and the more he fidgeted with the tassel of his cap the more I wondered why he had come.
Murray, however, guessed that he was in the way and hurried off as soon as he could. Then Owen made two or three unsuccessful efforts to begin, until I felt that I must offer him something more, only I had nothing left to offer. The man who said that hospitality covers a multitude of emotions went nearer the mark than most of those word-turning people do. But at last it all came out in jerks, and I felt most thoroughly sorry for him; if I had been in his place I am certain I should never have faced such an ordeal.
"I didn't like to tell you why I had come before your friend," he began; and he still twisted his cap round and round by the tassel. "I suppose a sort of false modesty prevented me, but I might just as well have spoken before him."
"Murray is a most awfully good sort," I said lamely, for I wanted to help him so much that my head felt hot and I could not think.
"I expect he is," Owen went on, "but I haven't come to be friends with your friends. I only wanted to see you, and the reason is that over twenty years ago in India your father saved my father's life."
I
