They were very quiet pleasures, truly. Mary Rayne and the Burton girls seldom appeared in College Quad now that Constance was away. Mrs. Hadlow had no lawn-tennis court, as has already been set forth; and persons who gave up their garden-ground to the frivolous purpose of growing flowers could not expect their younger friends to spare them many minutes out of a summer's day. Visitors of the sterner sex were chiefly represented by Major Mitton and Dr. Hatch, with a liberal sprinkling of the elder cathedral clergy. The eldest Miss Burton said to May once, "I can't imagine how you stand the dull life down here after your aunt's house in town! But I suppose you are simply resting on your oars. We hear you are to go to Glengowrie in the autumn. How delicious! The Duchess is sure to have her house filled with nice people." May emphatically denied that she was dull in Oldchester. Dull! She had never, she thought, been so happy in her life. "I wonder," said she to Mrs. Hadlow that same afternoon, "whether Violet Burton feels Oldchester to be dull. And if not, why should she assume that I do?" "Violet has a serious object in life, you know. She is the best tennis player in the county. One cannot be dull with an absorbing pursuit of that sort," answered Mrs. Hadlow, who, with all her genial benevolence, had an occasional turn of the tongue which proved her kinship with her nephew Owen. "The fact is," observed the latter, who was lying under the yew tree with a pipe in his mouth, and an uncut magazine in his hand, "that each of us carries his own supply of dulness about with him independently of external circumstances. Not but what there are conceivable cases where external circumstances would have a tremendous dulness-producing power; such as being banished to a desolate shore beyond the reach of 'baccy;' or having to read the Parliamentary debates right through every day." "Or being obliged to attend a musical afternoon at Miss Piper's London lodging three times a week," put in May, laughing. "You don't know what a hopeless heretic he is, Mrs. Hadlow. Even amiable Mr. Sweeting gave him up in despair. And Lady Moppett thinks he ought to be excommunicated." "Well, I suppose he need not have gone to Miss Piper's unless he had chosen to do so," said Aunt Jane. "Owen is rather fond of being pitied for having his own way. He ate his cake in the shape of enjoying Miss Piper's music, and had it in the shape of declaring himself a victim." "_Enjoying----?_ Good heavens!" exclaimed Owen, waving his pipe in protest. "Why did you go, then?" To this simple query Owen made no other response than muttering, with his pipe between his teeth again, that there were "compensations." "Owen," said his aunt abruptly, after a long silence, "you are a most unsatisfactory spectacle to behold." "That's disappointing, Aunt Jane. I flattered myself that I was a thing of beauty and a joy for ever."