anxious to be of service to the two friends, felt quite vexed with
himself that he could do nothing more than ask them to dine. So, just as
they were parting with the usual mutual expressions of goodwill, he asked
in a despondent, almost prayerful tone: 'Are you quite sure there is;
nothing I can do for you? Pray make use of me if you can, and I shall be
only too delighted.' The reply was in a rather nervous voice from the
younger man, who blushed as he asked the favour: 'Do you know anyone who
has got a lawn-tennis court? We should so awfully like to have a game.'

The Professor introduced them to the head and to some of the
undergraduates of the affiliated colleges close by, and heard very little
more of them till they came to dinner with him a fortnight later, the day
before they were to leave Melbourne. The conversation at dinner turned of
course upon what they had seen during their visit, with which they
declared themselves immensely pleased. But when asked as to the things
which had most impressed them, it came out that Sundays were the only
days they had gone out of the town; that they had not been to see a
public institution or building, except their bank and the theatres.
'Surely you can't have spent all your time at the club,' said the
Professor, 'though there is a capital library there; and, by the way, did
you ever play tennis at Ormond College?' And then came the reply from
both at once. It turned out that they had been to Ormond College to play
tennis twice a day, except when they stopped lunch there. And then
followed a technical description of the college tennis-courts, the
Australian play, etc., etc.

But the cream of the story is not yet reached. The young men were to
leave the next day for Japan, and the Professor waxed enthusiastic over
the delights in store for them in that land of the morning. He quoted
anecdotes and passages from Miss Bird's book, and repeated more than once