agoing the complete unicorn, as he calls it. I dare say you'll find
him a pleasant neighbour, sir. Your rooms is next to his."

With some doubts of these prospective pleasures, the Mr. Greens,
~pere et fils~, entered through a double door painted over the
outside, with the name of "SMALLS"; to which Mr. Filcher directed our
hero's attention by saying, "You can have that name took out, sir,
and your own name painted in. Mr. Smalls has just moved hisself to
the other quad, and that's why the rooms is vacant, sir."

Mr. Filcher then went on to point out the properties and capabilities
of the rooms, and also their mechanical contrivances.

"This is the hoak, this 'ere outer door is, sir, which the gentlemen
sports, that is to say, shuts, sir, when they're a readin'. Not as
Mr. Smalls ever hinterfered with his constitootion by too much 'ard
study, sir; he only sported his hoak when people used to get
troublesome about their little bills. Here's a place for coals, sir,
though Mr. Smalls, he kept his bull-terrier there, which was agin the
regulations, as ~you~ know, sir." (Verdant nodded his head, as though
he were perfectly aware of the fact.) "This ere's your bed-room, sir.
Very small, did you say, sir? Oh, no, sir; not by no means! ~We~
thinks that in college reether a biggish bed-room, sir. Mr. Smalls
thought so, sir, and he's in his second year, ~he~ is." (Mr. Filcher
thoroughly understood the science of "flooring" a freshman.)

"This is ~my~ room, sir, this is, for keepin' your cups and saucers,
and wine-glasses and tumblers, and them sort o' things, and washin'
'em up when you wants 'em. If you likes to keep