Amongst the letters delivered to Major Raynor--who, for a wonder, had risen betimes that morning, and was turning places over in his study in search of the lost bonds--was one from Oxford. It enclosed a very heavy bill for wine supplied to his son Charles: heavy, considering Mr. Charles's years and the duration of his one sojourn at the University. The major stared at it, with his spectacles, and without his spectacles; he looked at the heading, he gazed at the foot; and finally when he had mastered it he went into a passion, and ordered Charles before him. So peremptory was the summons, that Charles appeared in haste, half dressed. His outburst, when he found out what the matter was, quite equalled his father's. "I'm sure I thought you must be on fire down here, sir," said he. "What confounded sneaks they are, to apply to you! I can't understand their doing it." "Sneaks be shot!" cried the wrathful major. "Do you owe all this, or don't you? That's the question." "Why, the letter was addressed to _me!_" exclaimed Charles, who had been examining the envelope. "I must say, sir, you might allow me to open my own letters." But the major was guiltless of any want of faith. The mistake was the butler's. He had inadvertently placed the letter amongst his master's letters, and the major opened it without glancing at the address. "What does it signify, do you suppose, whether I opened it or you?" demanded the major. "Not that I did it intentionally. I should have to know of it: _you_ can't pay this." "They can wait," said Charles. "Wait! Do you mean to confess that you have had all this wine?" retorted the major, irascible for once. "Why, you must be growing into--into what I don't care to name!" "You can't suppose that I drank it, sir. The other undergrads give wine parties, and I have to do the same. They drink the wine; I don't." "That is, you drink it amongst you," roared the major; "and a nice disreputable lot you must all be. I understood that young men went to college to study; not to drink, and run up bills. What else do you owe? Is this all?" Charles hesitated in answering. An untruth he would not tell. The major saw what the hesitation meant, and it alarmed him. When we become frightened our wrath cools down. The major dropped into a chair, and lost his fierceness and his voice together. "Charley," said he in very subdued tones, "I have not the money to pay with. You know I haven't. If it's much, it will ruin me." "But it is not much, father," returned Charles, his own anger disarmed and contrition taking its place. "There may be one or two more trifling bills; nothing to speak of." "What on earth made you run them up?" "I'm sure I don't know; and I am very sorry for it," said Charles. "These things accumulate in the most extraordinary manner. When you fancy that you owe only a few shillings at some place or another, it turns out to be pounds. You have no idea what it is, father!"