Lot No. 249 - Page 2

the old stair. Each set
consisted simply of a sitting-room and of a bedroom,
while the two corresponding rooms upon the ground-
floor were used, the one as a coal-cellar, and the
other as the living-room of the servant, or gyp,
Thomas Styles, whose duty it was to wait upon the
three men above him. To right and to left was a line
of lecture-rooms and of offices, so that the dwellers
in the old turret enjoyed a certain seclusion, which
made the chambers popular among the more studious
undergraduates. Such were the three who occupied
them now--Abercrombie Smith above, Edward Bellingham
beneath him, and William Monkhouse Lee upon the
lowest storey.

It was ten o'clock on a bright spring night, and
Abercrombie Smith lay back in his arm-chair, his feet
upon the fender, and his briar-root pipe between his
lips. In a similar chair, and equally at his ease,
there lounged on the other side of the fireplace his
old school friend Jephro Hastie. Both men were in
flannels, for they had spent their evening upon the
river, but apart from their dress no one could
look at their hard-cut, alert faces without seeing
that they were open-air men--men whose minds and
tastes turned naturally to all that was manly and
robust. Hastie, indeed, was stroke of his college
boat, and Smith was an even better oar, but a coming
examination had already cast its shadow over him and
held him to his work, save for the few hours a week
which health demanded. A litter of medical books
upon the table, with scattered bones, models and
anatomical plates, pointed to the extent as well as
the nature of his studies, while a couple of single-
sticks and a set of boxing-gloves above the
mantelpiece hinted at the means by which, with
Hastie's help, he might take his exercise in its most
compressed and least distant form. They knew each
other very well--so well that they could sit now in
that soothing silence which is the very highest
development of companionship.

"Have some whisky," said Abercrombie Smith at
last between two cloudbursts. "Scotch in the jug and
Irish in the bottle."

"No, thanks. I'm in for the sculls. I don't
liquor when I'm training. How about you?"

"I'm reading hard. I think it best to leave it
alone."

Hastie nodded, and they relapsed into a contented
silence.

"By-the-way, Smith," asked Hastie, presently,
have you made the acquaintance of either of the
fellows on your stair yet?"

"Just a nod when we pass. Nothing more."

"Hum! I should be inclined to let it stand at
that. I know something of them both. Not much, but
as much as I want. I don't think I should take them
to my bosom if I were you. Not that