"But I tell you what; I've got an old hat and pair of boots I--I don't often wear--you can have them." A shout of laughter greeted this ingenuous offer--but it saved my top- coat.

And when in time my flat-topped pot-hat and tan boots were produced, there was general rejoicing.

Each Philosopher present tried them on in turn, and finally I was compelled to wear them, as well as my top-coat, for the rest of the evening, and assist in a full-dress rehearsal of the proposed hanging of the discipline master, in which, greatly to my inconvenience, I was made to personate Mr Jarman.
The following day I was enjoying a little hard-earned solitude, and amusing myself by leaning over the bridge and watching the boats below, when a voice at my side startled me.
"Ah, my polite letter-writer, is that you?
The very chap I want." It was Crofter.

My instinct at first, especially on the sly reference to my letter of apology, was to fly.

On second thoughts it seemed to me wiser to remain.