It was irritating enough, Beverly thought, to be inveigled into towing the fatuous old frump through the public streets; but the thought that his acquaintance with the lady might not end at Claverly was maddening. Billy wouldn’t be there, of course; and it was impossible to put an unattached female cousin into his room and leave her. That particular quarter of town was not, as a rule, the most decorous on Class Day. There is always more or less, what is technically known as “trouble” in Claverly and its vicinity on Class Day afternoon. It takes the harmless form of young men with wisps of pink mosquito netting in their buttonholes, to whom the world for the time being is not such a dreary place after all; or perhaps it merely consists of innocently garbed swimming parties running foot races down the long corridors on their way to the tank. But at any rate Beverly hesitated to turn Billy’s cousin adrift there. It would be difficult to explain his having done so to Billy. He meant to abandon her somewhere and quickly, but not there. They passed out of the crowded Yard. In his earnest desire to reach Claverly without delay, Beverly thoughtlessly turned into Holyoke Street. It was thronged with carriages and summery looking girls making for a common objective point, half-way down on the left-hand side. He didn’t realise his mistake in having chosen that particular route until it was too late. “How allegro life is,” remarked his companion. “It’s very warm,” answered Beverly, increasing his pace. “Cynic,” was the reply. Beverly stared straight ahead, but he knew the sort of expression that had accompanied the imputation. “They all seem to be going in there,” said Billy’s cousin, stopping on the curbstone opposite the Pudding building. “What is it?” “That? Oh, somebody’s spread, I suppose.” Beverly went on a step or two; but his companion didn’t follow him. Just then a lady with two girls bowed to him from a victoria waiting its turn across the street. “Aren’t you coming in?” she called. Beverly went over to speak to them. The girls were exquisite creatures; he would have given his soul at that moment to be able to leave his burden on the sidewalk opposite and join them. But he was “catching a train,” he explained. When he turned away, with the feeling of one about to resume a millstone, Billy’s cousin was where he had left her. As he approached, she lifted a forefinger to her lips, raised her eyes mysteriously, and stood for some moments in what she probably fancied was the attitude of a listening faun. “Music,” she whispered. “I shall certainly strangle this woman before we reach Claverly,” thought Beverly. “There is an orchestra inside,” he said. “Oh, I could just die waltzing!” she exclaimed. She crossed the street, undulating ecstatically to the music that came gaily through the open doors and windows of the Pudding. “I really must hurry,” said Beverly, very firmly.