The twins were entered at Merton, and had the luck to obtain adjoining garrets. Sir Cradock had begun to show a decided preference for Clayton, as he grew year by year more and more like his mother. But this was not the only reason why he would not listen to some foolʼs suggestion, that Cradock, the heir to the property, should be ranked as a “gentleman–commoner”. That stupid distinction he left for men who require self–assertion, admiring as he did the sense and spirit of that Master, well known in his day, who, to some golden cad insisting that his son should be entered in that college as a gentleman–commoner, angrily replied, “Sir, _all_ my commoners are gentlemen”. But the brothers were very soon parted. Clayton got sleeved in a scholarʼs gown, while Cradock still fluttered the leading–strings. “_Et tunicæ manicas_—you effeminate Viley”! said Cradock, admiring hugely, when his twin ran up to show himself off, after winning a Corpus scholarship; “and the governor wonʼt allow me a chance of a parasol for my elbows”. Sir Cradock, a most determined man, and a very odd one to deal with, had forbidden his elder son to stand for any scholarship, except those few which are of the University corporate. “A youth of your expectations”, he exclaimed, with a certain bitterness, for he often repined in secret that Clayton was not the heir, “a boy placed as you are, must not compete for a poor young ladʼs _viaticum_. You may go in for a University scholarship, though of course you will never get one; an examination does good, I have heard, to the unsuccessful candidates. But donʼt let me hear about it, not even if, by some accident, you should be the lucky one”. Craddy was deeply hurt; he had long perceived his fatherʼs partiality for the son more dashing, yet more effeminate, more pretentious, and less persistent. So Cradock set his heart upon winning Craven, Hertford, or Ireland, and never even alluding to it in the presence of his father. Hence it will be evident that the youth was proud and sensitive. “Amy _amata, peramata a me_”, cried the parson to his daughter, now a lovely girl of sixteen, straight, slender, and well–poised; “how glad and proud we ought to be of Claytonʼs great success”! “Pa, dear, he would never have got it, I am quite certain of that, if Cradock had been allowed to go in; and I think it is most unfair, shamefully unjust, that because he is the eldest son he is never to have any honour”. And Amy coloured brilliantly at the warmth of her own championship; but her father could not see it.