college arms, flanked by a porcelain jug of hot milk. De Reszke
cigarettes, whiskey and soda, and a new tin of John Cotton
smoking mixture completed the spread--which would be faithfully
reflected in Forbes's "battels," or weekly bills, later on. Young
men at Oxford do themselves well, and this was a typical lay-out
for an undergraduate evening.

Hinton, a ruddy old man with iron-gray hair and a very red and
bulby nose, was a garrulous servant, and after a tentative cough
made an attempt at small talk.

"I didn't see you in 'all to-night, sir."

"No," said Forbes, "I had some writing to do, Hinton."

"Oh yes, sir," said Hinton, according to the invariable formula
of college servants. A moment later, after another embarrassed
cough, he began again.

"Very wet night, sir; they say the towpath will be under water in
another day or so."

Forbes was not a rowing man, and the probable submerging of the
towpath was not news that affected him one way or the other. His
only reply was to ask the scout to refill the coal-scuttle. For
this task Hinton donned an old pair of gloves and carried in
several large lumps of coal in his hands from the bin outside.
Then he disappeared into the adjoining bedroom to pour out a few
gallons of very cold water into Forbes's hip bath, to turn down
the sheets, lay out his pajamas, and remove a muddy pair of boots