Now there was something very exciting about all that, which awoke even phlegmatic Deborah, the more so as she was too ignorant to understand the half of it. Even the grey cat got up to stretch itself, but after blinking idly at the speaker it settled comfortably once more in Deborah’s lap. “What’s Oxford?” she asked curiously. “Oh!—er—it’s a place where you go to learn to look down on everybody who isn’t as good as yourself,” he answered, first with hesitation, then with decision. “There’s another place called Cambridge where you can go to learn the same thing,” he added as an afterthought. “But—it’s not a good thing to learn, is it?” “Of course. If one is a gentleman one must know it, and let other people know it too.” “What do you mean by big game?” she asked next. “Tigers and elephants,” he answered, his eyes sparkling. “And could you really shoot a tiger?” “Of course. Just lend me that old cat, and I’ll show you how it’s done,” he said, springing up. But all Deborah’s instincts revolted at the thought. “No, indeed,” she cried, and put as much of her two hands over it as would go for protection. “I won’t hurt it. Just you lend it to me and I’ll—” “I won’t, it’s got the headache and feels tired.” “Got the headache!” exclaimed he with great contempt. “Who ever heard of a cat with the headache?” “It has got the headache,” she persisted. “Darling kicked it—and it’s had the headache ever since.” “Well, it’s only a tame old thing, so it wouldn’t do. But listen to me and I’ll tell you about shooting big game. I shall go on an elephant right into the thickest part of the forest.” “How will you get up?” “Climb, of course, up a ladder. Then in the thickest part of the forest I shall suddenly see two eyes like fire shining down at me. Then I shall take my gun—one—two—three. At the third shot it will fall mortally wounded. And then, so that everybody may really know I’ve really shot the tiger, I shall have it skinned, and bring the fur home.” “But suppose instead it killed you,” observed Deborah, who by this time was fully roused to the possibilities of such an event. “Well, you see, I shall have to be a pretty good shot before I could think of going out. And after that—well, a man with a gun, who knows how to use it, is a match for a tiger any day.” They became very great friends indeed, and took the short walks together every day most religiously, till at last the time came for his going away. They met each other in the kitchen lobby when there was no one there, and kissed several times very sadly. Deb wiped her eyes with the corner of her small pinafore, but he kept up manfully. “I’ll come back when—I’ve shot the big game—and—you’re twenty-one, you know.” But he never shot the big game, and he never came back. CHAPTER IV