"And why am I thus favoured?" replied Dan, dropping into a chair. "Because you are a nursling of Magdalen, sir," thundered the divine, with a laugh on his jolly red face. "There is Alma Mater herself over the fireplace--the quadrangle, and the tower askew. Ah me!" continued he, shaking his head pensively at the picture, "what days those were thirty years ago! Where are all the good fellows with whom I consorted in the time when Plancus was consul, and still---- But here comes the ale, Dan! Let me froth you a tankard, and we'll drink to the old college, sir, and to our better acquaintance." Not feeling equal to the task of emptying the silver pot presented to him, Dan bravely drank half, but Jarner did not set down his tankard till it was empty. Then he sighed, thumped himself with vigour, and nodded towards the mantelpiece. "Try a churchwarden," said he, persuasively. "Thank you, sir, I'll stick to my briar," answered Dan; and each having chosen his pipe, they smoked amicably together. "Briars smoke sweet," observed the former, using his little finger as a stopper, "but to my mind they don't come up to a churchwarden. I always smoke churchwardens, for," he added, with a twinkle in his little eyes, "being a clergyman, it is but right that I should affect a pipe with a clerical name." As in duty bound, Dan laughed at the old gentleman's joke, and then began to put cautious questions with a view to finding out all he could about Meg and her father. Jarner was very communicative, and replied frankly. The discovery that Dan was an Oxonian like himself warmed his heart towards the young fellow, and he did not regard him quite in the light of a stranger, though he knew nothing about him. Dan might have been an unconscionable scamp, and Jarner would not have seen through him. He was a simple, kindly old fellow, in spite of his strong ale and terriers and bluster. See, then, what freemasonry there is in Oxonianism. A coined word is necessary here, as no other can adequately describe the parson's attitude towards the tramp. "You have lived here for thirty years, Mr. Jarner?" "For thirty years, sir. I have charge of three parishes within a radius of twenty miles, and ride over to preach in one of them every second and third Sunday; the first I keep for Farbis." "How do the people live in this outlandish place?" "By weaving. Have you not seen the looms at work in the cottages?" "Well, yes; but I did not----" "See how inobservant is youth!" laughed Jarner, filling himself another tankard. "Don't be alarmed at my thirst, young man. I have been in the saddle for five hours to-day, over the hills at Silkon, where I met a friend of yours." "Indeed! I didn't know I had friends here." "Pooh! What about Tinker Tim? He is a warm admirer of you, sir, and thinks you a pretty light-weight fighter. Tim gave me a description of your battle in the dell. It was glorious--glorious! I should like to have been present."