expected to remember minutely. Mimicry was, unfortunately, a habit with
him. He then pleaded for the milder construction with such zeal and
eloquence that the high-minded scholar he was addressing admitted that
construction was _possible,_ and therefore must be received. So the
affair ended in a written apology to Mr. Champion which had all the
smoothness and neatness of a merchant's letter. Arthur Wardlaw was
already a master in that style.

Six months after this, and one fortnight before the actual commencement
of our tale, Arthur Wardlaw, well crammed by Penfold, went up for his
final examination, throbbing with anxiety. He passed; and was so grateful
to his tutor that, when the advowson of a small living near Oxford came
into the market, he asked Wardlaw senior to lend Robert Penfold a sum of
money, much more than was needed. And Wardlaw senior declined without a
moment's hesitation.

This slight sketch will serve as a key to the dialogue it has postponed,
and to subsequent incidents.


"Well, Arthur, and so you have really taken your degree?"

"No, sir; but I have passed my examination. The degree follows as a
matter of course--that is a mere question of fees."

"Oh! Then now I have something to say to you. Try one more glass of the
'47 port. Stop; you'll excuse me; I am a man of business; I don't doubt
your word; Heaven forbid! but, do you happen to have any document you can
produce, in further confirmation of what you state; namely, that you have
passed your final examination at the University?"