"As a senior member of the University," I added severely, "I believe it is my duty to report you to the Proctors for smoking while in academic dress." Freak’s repartee was to offer me a cigarette. "Let us take a walk down Trinity Street," he continued. "I have to go and see The Tut." "Who?" "My Tutor. Don’t get fossilised all at once, old thing!" I apologised. "What are you going to see him about?" I enquired. "Been sent down?" "No. I am going to get leave to hold a dinner-party consisting of more than four persons," replied my friend, quoting pedantically from the College Statute which seeks (vainly) to regulate the convivial tendencies of the undergraduate. "Ah," I remarked airily--"quite so! For my part, such rules no longer apply to me." Fatal vaunt! Next moment Dicky was frantically embracing me before all Trinity Street. "Brave heart," he announced, "this is providential! You are a godsend--a _deus ex machina_--a little cherub sent from aloft! It never occurred to me: I need not go to The Tut for leave at all now! It would have been a forlorn hope in any case. But now all is well. _You_ shall come to the dinner. In fact, you shall _give_ it! Then no Tut in the world can interfere. Come along, host and honoured guest! Come and see Wicky about it!" As The Freak hustled me down All Saints’ Passage, I enquired plaintively who Mr. Wicky might be. "Wickham is his name," replied The Freak. "He is nominally giving the dinner. We are going to--" "Pardon me," I interposed. "How many people _are_ nominally giving this dinner? So far, we have you, Wicky, and myself. I--" "It’s this way," explained my friend. "Wicky is nominally the host; he will do the honours. But I have dropped out. The dinner will be ordered in your name now. That’s all." "Why is Wicky nominally the host?" I enquired, still befogged. "We are all giving the dinner--seven of us," explained The Freak; "all except yourself and The Jebber, in fact. Wicky has to be host because he is the only man who is not going to the dinner disguised as some one else. Now, do you understand?" "There are one or two minor points," I remarked timidly, "which--" "Go ahead!" sighed my friend. "Who," I enquired, "is The Jebber? And why should he share with me the privilege of not paying for his dinner?" The Freak became suddenly serious.