“You don’t know any of these people, do you?” said Haydock, taking him by the arm; “what a devil of a time you’ve been away from this place.” “I know that that’s a Prescott,” laughed the graduate. In his quick survey of the table, while the others had been welcoming him back, his eyes had rested a moment on a big fellow with light hair. Everybody laughed, because it really was a Prescott and all Prescotts were simply more or less happy replicas of all other Prescotts. “I know your brothers,” said the graduate, shaking hands with the boy, who had risen. “It’s Mr. Thorn.” Haydock made this announcement loud enough to be heard by the crowd. He introduced every one, prefixing “Mr.” to the names of the first few, but changing to given and even nicknames before completing the circuit of the table. The humour of some of these last,--“Dink,” “Pink,” and “Mary,” for instance,--lost sight of in long established usage, suggested itself anew; and the fellows laughed again as they made a place for Thorn at the crowded table. “It’s six years, isn’t it?” Haydock asked politely. The others had begun to babble cheerfully again of their own affairs. “Six! I wish it were; it’s eight,” answered Thorn. “Eight since I left college. But of course I’ve been here two or three times since,--just long enough to make me unhappy at having to go back to Europe again.” “And now you’re a great, haughty Ph. D. person, an ‘Officer of Instruction and Government,’ announced in the prospectus to teach in two courses,” mused Ellis, admiringly. “How do you like the idea?” “It’s very good to be back,” said Thorn. He looked about the familiar room with a contented smile, while the steward bustled in and out to supply him with the apparatus of dining.