I cannot imagine why I made that last remark, except that he had fixed his little eyes upon me when I began and it seemed to be dragged out of me. "I do not think that you need trouble yourself about the duties of the proctors, Mr. Marten. Good-morning, and please remember what I have said to you." I left his room smiling, and I am sure he thought I was laughing at him; but what really amused me was being called "Mr. Marten," for I had not grown accustomed to my prefix and the sound of it was most comical to me. I am afraid my taste for jokes was very different from that of my tutor. When I came away from Mr. Edwardes I stood in the front quadrangle and whistled. My whistle is unmusical and penetrative, useful only when a dog has been lost, and some man, whom I did not know, put his head out of his window and said abruptly, "For heaven's sake shut up that vile noise;" another man chucked a penny into the quad and told me he should send something heavier if I did not stop. The front quad was obviously no place for me, but before I had made up my mind where I would go the Warden came out of his house and saw me before I saw him. "Good-morning, Mr. Marten," he said before I could escape; "it is so unusual to find a beautiful quadrangle totally uninhabited that you seem to be undecided whether to leave it or not. Your whistle as I stood by the open window of my bedroom suggested to me that you are not employing your time most advantageously either to yourself or to others." He stood by me for a moment, and then moving on with his peculiar shuffle disappeared through the doorway leading into the college gardens. My nerves were becoming upset from these constant encounters, and as I felt that I could not sit down and work until I had some kind of an antidote, I went up to see Jack Ward, who had rooms in the front quadrangle. I found him, as I thought, most beautifully unemployed, but as soon as he had asked me whether my temper was better in the morning than at night, of which remark I took no notice, he said that he was being worried to death. There were two telegrams lying on his table, and I thought something awful had happened to his people, so I tried to look sympathetic and replied that if he would rather be left alone I would go at once. Then he broke forth into the language of towing-paths and barges and asked me whether I was a lunatic, which was a fairly nasty question when I thought I was treating his trouble in a becoming spirit. I was not, however, sure what was the matter with him, so I did not say what I might have said but asked him to tell me why he was bothered.