The table was laid for tea, as usual. Though he might have gone to
Twybridge this evening, he had preferred to stay overnight, for an
odd reason. At a theatre in Kingsmill a London company, headed by an
actress of some distinction, was to perform ~Romeo and Juliet~, and
he purposed granting himself this indulgence before leaving the
town. The plan was made when his eye fell upon the advertisement, a
few days ago. He then believed it probable that an evening at the
theatre would appropriately follow upon a day of victory. His
interest in the performance had collapsed, but he did not care to
alter his arrangements.

The landlady came in bearing the tea-pot. He wanted nothing, yet
could not exert himself to say so.

But he was losing sight of a menace more formidable than defeat by
Chilvers. What was it his blackguard uncle had said? Had the fellow
really threatened to start an eating-house opposite the College, and
flare his name upon a placard? 'Peak's Dining and Refreshment Rooms'
--merciful heavens!

Again the mood of laughter came upon him. Why, here was a solution
of all difficulties, as simple as unanticipated. If indeed that
awful thing came to pass, farewell to Whitelaw! What possibility of
pursuing his studies when every class-companion, every Professor,--
nay, the very porters,--had become aware that he was nephew to the
man who supplied meals over the way? Moral philosophy had no
prophylactic against an ordeal such as this. Could the most
insignificant lad attending lectures afford to disregard such an
occasion of ridicule and contempt?