As Harry Vivian entered the quadrangle where were assembled the “benchers” and their friends and satellites, he gazed around upon the noisy, active throng, uncertain whither to bend his steps. He impulsively strolled towards the farther end of the quadrangle, where racket-playing was going on vigorously. As he moved on, his eye suddenly caught sight of the dark, military looking personage who had so rudely stared at Flora Wilton, and whom he had so unceremoniously ejected from his path. He was in close conversation with old Josh Maybee, and twice or thrice during their conversation he pointed to No. 10, and Josh Maybee pointed there, too--even up at the window of No. 5, where Flora was with her father. Not for an instant did Hal doubt that Flora was the subject of their conversation. It was so natural for him to surmise it. The moustached man had stared at her in the most marked manner--impertinently and rudely, as Hal believed. He was struck with her beauty--that was certain; he could hardly be to blame for that--how could he help it? But there the matter ought to end. Why was he making inquiries about her, as it was very evident he was? Why should he desire to know who and what she was? Perhaps he wished to see her again, and to speak to her. Nothing more probable. According to Hal’s calculation of consequences, he thought he had better not make the attempt. After a few minutes thus occupied, the tall, dark gentleman left Josh Maybee, and walked as if in deep thought towards the end of the quadrangle. Josh Maybee hurried with a smiling face towards the doorway, where Hal was yet standing. He would have passed, but Hal caught him by the arm. “Stay,” he said, “I want a word with you, Maybee?” “Fifty, if you please, young sir,” cried Maybee, who appeared quite excited. “You have been lucky to me to-day, sir. Just had a crown given to me.” “I guess who gave it to you--a tall, dark man with whom you were just now speaking.” “The very same,” returned Maybee, rubbing his hands. “Is it fair to ask the subject of your conversation?” observed Hal, hesitatingly. “Certainly,” replied Maybee, “he didn’t caution me to keep what was said to myself. He asked me, first of all, who was that pretty girl--and, dear heart! she has a blessed sweet face--that was with you, sir. And I told him that I didn’t know. Then he gave me a crown piece, which I put away quickly, for fear he should ask for change or to have it back again. Ah! there aint many crowns and half-crowns given away here, sir!” “Well,” exclaimed Hal, impatiently, “that was not all that passed?”