"True," replied Mr. Foote, "he's cast for the hero; though he will create a new _rôle_ as the walking-into-them gentleman." "You see, Footelights," said Mr. Blades, "that the Pet is to lead our forces; and we depend upon him to help us on to victory: and we must put him into academicals, not only because the town cads must think he is one of us, but also because the proctors might otherwise deprive us of his services--and old Towzer, the Senior Proctor, in particular, is sure to be all alive. Who's got an old gown?" "I will lend mine with pleasure," said Mr. Verdant Green. "But you'll want it yourself," said Mr. Blades. "Why, thank you," faltered our hero, "I'd rather, I think, keep within college. I can see the--the fun--yes, the fun--from the window." "Oh, blow it, Giglamps!" ejaculated Mr. Bouncer, "you'll never go to do the mean, and show the white feather, will you?" "Music expressive of trepidation," murmured Mr. Foote, by way of parenthesis. "But," pursued our hero, apologetically, "there will be, I dare say, a large crowd." "A very powerful _caste_, no doubt," observed Mr. Foote. "And I may get my--yes, my spectacles broken; and then"---- "And then, Giglamps," said Mr. Bouncer, "why, and then you shall be presented with another pair as a testimonial of affection from yours truly. Come, Giglamps, don't do the mean! a man of your standing, and with a chest like that!" and the little gentleman sounded on our hero's shirt-front, as doctors do when they stethoscope a patient. "Come, Giglamps, old feller, you mustn't refuse. You didn't ought to was, as Shakspeare says." "Pardon me! Not Shakspeare, but Wright, in the 'Green Bushes,'" interrupted Mr. Foote, who was as painfully anxious as Mr. Payne Collier himself that the text of the great poet should be free from corruptions. So Mr. Verdant Green, reluctantly, it must be confessed, suffered himself to be persuaded to join that section of the Gown which was to be placed under the leadership of the redoubted Pet; while little Mr. Bouncer, who had gone up into Mr. Sloe's rooms, and had vainly endeavoured to persuade that gentleman to join in the forthcoming _mêlée_, returned with an undergraduate's gown, and forthwith invested the Pet with it. "I don't mind this 'ere mortar-board, sir," remarked the professor of the noble art of self-defence, as he pointed to the academical cap which surmounted his head, "I don't mind the mortar-board, sir; but I shall never be able to do nothink with this 'ere toggery on my shudders. I couldn't use my mawleys no how!" And the Pet illustrated his remark in a professional manner, by sparring at an imaginary opponent in a feeble and unscientific fashion. "But you can tie the tail-curtain round your shoulders--like this!" said Mr. Fosbrooke, as he twisted his own gown tightly round him.