XXIII.--THE LISTS 299 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. ST. JOHN’S CHAPEL, FROM THE BACKS _Frontispiece._ TRINITY BRIDGE, FROM THE BACKS _Facing p. 76_ KINGS COLLEGE, SCREEN AND GATEWAY “ _p. 176_ KING’S PARADE AND CAIUS COLLEGE “ _p. 212_ THE BACKS “ _p. 111_ CLARE COLLEGE AND BRIDGE “ _p. 246_ THE BABE, B.A. I.--TO INTRODUCE. The time has come, the showman said, To look at many things, At Deans and tea and men and Babes At Cambridge and at King’s. LIGHT-BLUE LYRICS. “And I maintain,” said Reggie, flourishing the Britannia-metal teapot (in order, it is supposed, to lend a spurious emphasis to the _banalité_ of his sentiment), “that it’s better to have played and lost than never--” The teapot--one of those in which the handle is invariably the hottest part--had just been filled up with boiling water, and a clear and fervid amber stream flew bounteously out of its spout on to the bare knees of one of those who had played and lost. Thereupon a confused noise arose, and Reggie’s sentence has never been finished. After a short but violent interlude, the confused noise ceased by tacit consent, as suddenly as it had begun; Ealing helped Reggie to pick up the broken fragments that remained, and the latter had to drink his tea out of a pint glass. “To think that a mere game of football should lead to such disastrous consequences,” he remarked. “Why does tea out of a glass taste like hot Gregory powder?” “I never drank hot Gregory powder; what does it taste like?” “Why, like tea out of a glass,” said Reggie brilliantly. “Reggie, if you want to rag again, you’ve only got to say so.” Ealing threw into a corner the napkin with which he had been drying his knees and stocking after the tea-deluge, and as he had finished, took out a pipe, and proceeded to fill it. “That pig of a half-back caught me a frightful hack on the shin,” he said. “Well, you kicked him in the stomach later on,” said Reggie consolingly. “That’s always something to fall back on. Besides he did it by accident, and it certainly looked as if you did it on purpose. Of course it may only have been sheer clumsiness.” “Dry up. You didn’t funk as much as usual this afternoon.” “I tried to, but I never had time. And I can funk as quickly as any man in England. Jack, it’s time for you to say something.” Jack Marsden was the only one of the three who looked in the least like a gentleman at that moment. Ealing and Reggie were both in change, they both wore villainously muddy flannel knickerbockers, short enough to disclose villainously muddy knees, old blazers, and strong, useful, football boots with bars. Jack, who had taken no part in the confused noise, was sitting in a low chair reading _Alice in Wonderland_, and eating cake in the manner of a man who does not think about dinner.