Fred did not have the satisfaction of seeing his eleven beat Cambridge, but there had not been such a close finish in a 'Varsity match for nearly twenty years, and Nina said the excitement was really painful. "I was quite glad when it was over," she wrote to me. "Mother never spoke for quite half-an-hour, and Mr. Bradfield nearly ruined his hat by constantly taking it off and putting it on again. I warned him that he was spoiling it, but he said that such a finish was worth a hat. And we lost in the end; a big Cambridge man hit a four and father said awful things at the top of his voice. Somehow or other that seemed to relieve everybody. There was only one other Cambridge man to come in, and if the big man had been bowled instead of hitting a four it would have been splendid. We waited for Fred afterwards and saw him for a minute. He said that the big man had been the best cricketer at Cambridge for four years, and now that he was going down Oxford ought really to win next year. Fred was very disappointed, but he told us that this man was a thoroughly good sort, which annoyed me because I felt as if he must be perfectly horrid." If my people could be excited at a cricket match I knew that I had missed something worth seeing, but when I tried to talk about the 'Varsity match to the only member of my German family who spoke English, she thought I was explaining lawn tennis to her. I felt very sad indeed, and had to go for a long bicycle ride to shake off a vigorous attack of the blues. I suppose those months in Germany must have been useful to me, yet in spite of a great amount of kindness I was very glad when they were over. I learned a great deal, I honestly believe, for I often went to a restaurant and talked politics with three professors, and that is no mean feat even if you do it in your own language. For some reason which I have never been able to understand, these men were very pleased with me; possibly they liked me because I never agreed with anything they said. I asked them to come and see us if they were ever in England, an invitation given out of joy in wishing them good-bye. The prospect of leaving the German language made me very liberal in the way of invitations to those who spoke it, and if all the people whom I asked had happened to come at the same time, they would have caused a considerable sensation in our small household. There were, however, dangers in plunging me into foreign families which my father did not discover; for I like everybody so much, when I am leaving them, that I feel certain that they are the nicest people in the world. I had not been at home for a day before I found out that something very like a mystery had attached itself to The Bradder, so I went to my mother and asked her what had happened.