And jolly lively letters they were.
I remembered one of them well.

It came after two weeks' omission on Tom's part, and ran thus:-- "Dear Tom, "A pretty fellow you are to correspond with! Here am I, piping to you with all my might, but I can't get you to dance.

I know what you'll tell me, you old humbug--`awfully hard grind'-- `exam coming on'-- `lectures day and night,' and rubbish like that.

All very well, but look here, Thomas, don't fancy that your diligence in cutting off legs and arms can be an excuse for cutting yours truly in this heartless manner.

Not having a letter of yours to answer, I don't know how I shall scrape up material enough for a yarn.