Grantchester Grind, or to Coton and back. At four he had tea; at five he
settled down to administer discipline to the college, by summoning and
remonstrating with such undergraduates as had failed to comply with the
various regulations; at half-past seven he dined in hall--a meek figure,
clean shaven and spectacled, seated between an infidel philosopher and a
socialist: he drank a single glass of wine afterwards in the Combination
Room, smoked one cigarette, and retired again to his rooms to write
letters to parents (if necessary), and to run over his notes for next
day.

And he did this, with the usual mild variations of a University life,
every weekday, for two-thirds of the year. Of the other third, he spent
part in Switzerland, dressed in a neat gray Norfolk suit with
knickerbockers, and the rest with clerical friends of the scholastic
type. It was a very solemn thought to him how great were his
responsibilities, and what a privilege it was to live in the whirl and
stir of one of the intellectual centers of England!

* * * * *

Frank Guiseley was to Mr. Mackintosh a very great puzzle. He had
certainly been insubordinate in his first year (Mr. Mackintosh gravely
suspected him of the Bread-and-Butter affair, which had so annoyed his
colleague), but he certainly had been very steady and even deferential
ever since. (He always took off his hat, for example, to Mr. Mackintosh,
with great politeness.) Certainly he was not very regular at chapel, and
he did not dine in hall nearly so often as Mr. Mackintosh would have
wished (for was it not part of the University idea that men of all
grades of society should meet as equals under the college roof?). But,
then, he had never been summoned for any very grave or disgraceful