Our dinner party was a small one. There were only de Beresford, Evelyn, and Farmborough, besides our three selves, but the real fun began when Elgar turned up about half-past seven with an old pair of pyjamas, which he proceeded to don, and then treated us to a wild breakdown, regardless of the surrounding crockery and the unfortunate Mary Ellen, who waited upon us in fear and trembling. As Mrs. McNab often says to the Pilot, ‘It ain’t you three gentlemen what makes all the rampagingses, but it’s them there harum scarum friends of yours,’ which only shows how skilfully we conceal our little weaknesses from the powers below, who are in this case the Dig-Master and his wife. When we reached the coffee stage our little party increased very rapidly. Many of the gentlemen assembled appeared to find coffee insipid, and it was at this juncture that I discovered a bottle of Chartreuse in the cellarette, which I seized with the intention of serving out a few liqueurs, but there was no need for thimble glasses, as Stanhope and Freddy took their allowance in coffee, Squiff mixed his with champagne in equal proportions, while Elgar, who couldn’t find anything smaller, lapped up a half tumbler of the fire-water with much pomp. Finding that the bottle was quite empty I went to the window to see if any more visitors were in sight, and beheld for the first time an enormous array of cabs stretching for quite a healthy distance up and down the High. As the liquid refreshment was completely exhausted and it was growing late, I suggested an adjournment to the Suburban, and we left for that festive old barn in a body, three men in each hansom. On our arrival we soon skipped out and arranged to owe our cab fares, but taking tickets was a slower affair. The ticket office at the Suburban is modelled exactly upon those at railway stations, that is to say, it is placed so as to present the minimum of accessibility with the maximum of draught, but by dint of a little perseverance we eventually obtained two dozen stalls and streamed along the passage to the door of the House. When we got inside we were astonished to find more than a hundred Undergrads, instead of the usual contingent of anything from five to half-a-dozen, and this crowding unfortunately compelled us to divide our party. We exchanged friendly greetings with the various people known to us, and placed Elgar in an unobtrusive seat where he would not readily catch the Manager’s eye, and then prepared to watch the show itself. A most remarkable sort of Sister Anne person made his appearance upon the stage soon after our arrival, and some people who were outside the pale of the Elect assailed him with certain strange missiles, chiefly horticultural specimens, which must have stirred up Woodbine the manager, for immediately there descended upon us a shower of leaflets setting forth that ‘nothing must be thrown upon the stage,’ that ‘bouquets left at the office would be handed on to their destination,’