Miss Eleanor."

"I wonder," said Morris, who was of a more prosaic disposition, "how it
is that it's always much jollier having a feed when you ought not to
than at the proper time. For instance, eating this pork-pie at a table,
with knife and fork and a plate, wouldn't be a quarter the fun it is
having it like we're doing now--cutting it with a razor out of Acton's
dressing-case, and knowing that if we were cobbed we should get into a
jolly row."

"Talking about rows over feeds," said Acton, "my brother John is at
Ronleigh College, and I remember, soon after he went there, he said they
had a great spree in his dormitory. One of the chaps had had a hamper
sent him, and they smuggled the grub upstairs; and when they thought the
coast was clear, they spread a sheet on the floor, and laid out the grub
as if it were on a table-cloth. The fellow who was standing treat was
rather a swell in his way, and among other things he'd got his jam put
out in a flat glass dish. It was a fine feed, and they'd just begun,
when they heard some one coming. They'd only just got time to turn out
the gas and jump into bed before the door opened, and in came one of the
masters called Weston. Well, of course, they all pretended to be
asleep. But the master had heard them scrambling about, and he walked
in the dark up the aisle between the beds, saying, 'Who's been out of
bed here?' Then all of a sudden he stuck his foot into the glass
jam-dish, and it slid along the floor, and down he came bang in the
middle of all the spread. John said that when the gas was lit they
couldn't help laughing at old Weston: he'd rammed one elbow into a box
of sardines, and there was a cheese-cake stuck in the middle of his
back. But oh, there was a row, I can tell you!"