Mr. Tressor had not yet returned from lecturing, the man said in response to Paul's knock, but he had left word that he would not be more than a few minutes late. Would Mr. Kestern come in? Mr. Manning was also coming to luncheon. As the door of the don's keeping-room closed behind him, Paul looked round eagerly. He walked over to the fireplace and stood on the rug, with his back to the fire as if he owned the place. His eyes roved round the remembered room. There were the bookshelves, with the hid electric lights at the top of them as he knew, in which, during just such a moment of waiting, he had once looked for Mr. Tressor's own works and found none. There were the few odd vivid little pictures--the amateur photograph of Tressor himself with a leaping pack of dogs, the cartoon from Vanity Fair, the water-colour of the old house in the Weald, Loggan's print of the College, an impression of the gorge at Ronda, and a pencil sketch of the Chelsea Embankment. There were the few big comfortable chairs; the little table with its fat cigarette-box, a new book or two, the ivory paper-cutter; the tall firescreen, not used now, of faded tapestry; the window-seat. He glanced through the high wide windows. The bare trees of the Fellows' garden were wet and dismal in a January mist, but seen so, Paul had an odd feeling that they were quiet and dignified. In short, it was the old room, with its air of serene, silent waiting, in which the boy had already seen visions and dreamed dreams. Mr. Tressor came in, big, slow, kindly. He shook hands with Paul, smiling upon him. "Well, glad to be up again? Been writing more verses in the Vac., eh?" Paul shook his head. "I could not write at home, somehow," he said. "Why not?" "I don't know. I was too busy, perhaps, for one thing." "Reading?" "No, not much." (Paul hesitated. Then he spoke out.) "You see there's no end to do in a parish, Christmas-time." The other nodded with a comprehension at which Paul wondered slightly. "I know. School treats, socials and prayer meetings. I admire the people who do them enormously. I suppose you had your full share?" "Yes," said Paul, and was silent, remembering Edith. It was odd--Tressor and Edith. And he liked both. Manning was announced. Manning entered easily, nodded to Tressor, apologised for being late, and greeted Paul. "Hullo, Paul," he said, "had a good Vac.?" "We were just talking of his manifold activities," said Tressor, "but I expect luncheon is ready. Let's go in."