On Sundays, the thousand and one things crowded out of the programme were to be cleared up, his home mail was to be written, and then arrears of work had to be attacked. At four o'clock he addressed Roy Pittenweem and Mrs. MacDougall, his dogs, and said:-- "There's a bloomin' bun-snatch somewhere, you fellers, don't it?". Though a Professor and one of the most keen and earnest workmen in India, his own college blazers were not quite worn out, and Life, the great Artist, had not yet done much sketching on the canvas of his face--in spite of his daily contact with the Science Professor, William Greatorex Bonnett, B.A., widely known as the Mad Hatter, the greatest of whose many great achievements is his avoidance of death at the hands of his colleagues and acquaintance. Receiving no reply beyond a wink and a waggle, he dropped his blue pencil, rose, and went to the table sacred to litter; and from a wild welter of books, pipes, papers, golf-balls, hats, cigar-boxes, dog-collars, switches, cartridges and other sediment, he extracted a large gilt-edged card and studied it without enthusiasm or bias. "Large coat of arms," he murmured--"patience--no--a pay-sheet on a monument asking for time; item a hand, recently washed; ditto, a dickey bird--possibly pigeon plucked proper or gull argent; guinea-pig regardant and expectant; supporters, two bottliwallahs rampant. Crest, a bum-boat flottant, and motto '_Cinq-cento-percentum_'. All done in gold. Likewise in gold and deboshed gothic, the legend 'Sir and Lady Fuggilal Potipharpar, At Home. To meet Mr. and Mrs. Cornelius Gosling-Green, M.P. Five p.m. C.T.' ... Now what the devil, Roy Pittenweem, _is_ C.T.? Is it 'Curious Time' or 'Cut for Trumps' or a new decoration for gutter plutocrats? It _might_ mean 'Calcutta Time,' mightn't it, as the egregious Phossy and his gang would have it? Well, we'll go and look upon the Cornmealious Gosling-Green, M.P.'s, and chasten our soul from sinful pride--ain't it, Mrs. MacDougall?" and the Professor strolled across to the Sports Club for a cup of tea. In the midst of cheery converse with a non-moral and unphilosophic Professor of Moral Philosophy, a fat youth of the name of Augustus Grobble whose life was one long picturesque pose, he sprang to his feet, remarking: "I go, Augustus, I am bidden to behold some prize Gosling-Greens or something, at 5 p.m., D.V. or D.T. or C.T. or L.S.D. or otherwise. Perhaps it was S.T. which means 'Standard Time,' and as I said, I go, Augustus." Augustus Grobble was understood to return thanks piously.... "Taxi, Sahib?" inquired the messenger-boy at the door. "Go to," said the Professor. "Also go call me a _tikka-gharri_[55] and select a _very_ senior horse, blind, angular, withered, wilted, and answering to the name, most obviously, of Skin-and-Grief--lest I be taken by the Grizzly-Goslings for a down-trodden plutocrat and a brother--and not seen for the fierce and 'aughty oppressor that I am." [55] Public conveyance.