‘Drat the man,’ she said, ‘Why can’t he--’ And then as he lifted his hat and apologised profusely, ‘O pray don’t mention it, water can’t possibly do any harm,’ and we went on our way, though perhaps not rejoicing. The Thomas’ barge was too full of people thumping their eightsmen upon the back, so we landed on the Cecil’s raft and walked slowly back up the fine avenue, which was crowded with youth and beauty all going in one direction. There was no great excitement that night, and as Muriel complained of being tired, the ladies retired early, while Blitherington kindly organized a poker party in my rooms after the Union debate, and carried off thirty shillings from our united funds. With the exception of one and twopence this had all disappeared by the following morning, for while I was in Freddy’s digs at about sherry-and-bitter time, Blitherington came in to ask if he might put half-a-dozen collars and a silk handkerchief down to his account at Sampson’s. That afternoon we took the girls out in canoes for the Eights and Maisie fell to me, while Freddy sacrificed himself to the extent of taking Lady Blitherington and Ophelia out in a large and equably-balanced punt. Squiff disappeared with Muriel in another canoe; while Blitherington, to whom the sight of Ophelia is as a red rag to a bull, persuaded Reggie to take him out in a punt alone. ‘What are you going to do with me this afternoon?’ said Maisie as she settled herself in my Canader, ‘don’t you think we ought to have brought Miss Bugg as chaperon?’ I suppose my face must have expressed my feelings, for she laughed and added, ‘Well, we’ll compromise by taking Jacob,’ which we did. ‘I’m a firm believer in laziness, aren’t you, Mr. Cochrane,’ she said as we turned up the Cher; ‘let’s get into some quiet nook and watch the people passing.’ ‘I like Oxford,’ she added after a short pause, ‘I can say what I like without everybody thinking I mean something else. That’s sometimes so unpleasant. I wonder,’ she remarked musingly, ‘who I’m going to marry; what sort of person do you think would suit me, Mr. Cochrane?’ ‘I should put you down for a Sir William Shipton or something like that, Miss Maisie,’ I answered. ‘Oh! the money part of that is all right, but I want a respectable and presentable person, not an aitchless remnant with a squint and large feet.’ ‘Oh! I suppose a decent sort of Englishman who bathes daily and plays most games would do you,’ I suggested. ‘Yes I think so, but he must be big and strong to satisfy me.’ ‘There are some of them to be found even in these hard times,’ I assented. ‘Thank the Lord,’ said Maisie piously; and we changed the subject.