“You mustn’t understand from that,” I said, “that the fire is to be allowed to go out. Quite the contrary. I want a particularly good fire. When the others are eating ices I shall feel the need of it.” The head waiter asked if I had a preference for any particular kind of ice. “Strawberry,” I said, “vanilla, and coffee. Three of each, and three neapolitan. That will make up the dozen. I shall want a whole box of wafers. The ices can be brought in after tea, say at twenty minutes past five. It wouldn’t do to have them melting while we were at the cakes, and I insist on a good fire.” The head waiter recapitulated my orders to make sure that he had got them right and then left me. At twenty minutes to five Lalage and Hilda arrived. They looked very hot, which pleased me. I had been feeling a little nervous about the ices. They explained breathlessly that they were sorry for being late. I reassured them. “So far from being late,” I said “you’re twenty minutes too early. I’m delighted to see you, but it’s only twenty minutes to five.” “There now, Hilda,” said Lalage, “I told you that your old chronometer had most likely darted on again. I should have had lots and lots of time to do my hair. Hilda’s watch,” she explained to me, “was left to her in her grandmother’s will, so of course it goes too fast. It often gains as much as two hours in the course of the morning.” “I wonder you trust it,” I said. “We don’t. When we got your first ‘gram in the Elizabethan we looked at the clock and saw that we had heaps of time. When your second came--Selby-Harrison sent it over from number 175--we began to think that Hilda’s watch might be right after all and that the college clock had stopped. We went back _ventre à terre_ on the top of a tram to Trinity Hall and found your third ‘gram waiting for us. That made us dead certain that we were late. So we slung on any rags that came handy and simply flew. We didn’t even stay to hook up Hilda’s back. I jabbed three pins into it in the train.” “I’m sorry,” I said, “that you troubled to change your frocks. I didn’t expect that you’d have to do that.” “Of course we had. Didn’t you know we were in for an exam this morning?” “I did know that; but I thought you’d have had on your very best so as to soften the Puffin’s heart.” “The poor old Puffin,” said Lalage, “wouldn’t be any the wiser if we turned up in our night dresses. He thinks of nothing but parallaxes. Does he, Hilda?”