Needless to say, the Doctor received an incredible number of presents. It was like a second wedding. Each division of the school gave its separate gift, and, at the earnest request of Mrs. Gussy, who valued spontaneity above all things, the boys were left to make their own choice without prompting from their elders. The Lower School gave a Tantalus, big enough to blast the reputation of the most saintly Dean; the Removes, a telescope of immense power, because, in Dr. Gussy’s sermons, there were frequent allusions to the stars; the Fifths, an invalid’s chair of elaborate mechanical cunning, and the Prefects a complete set of engravings of Chiltern from its earliest days, of which Dr. Gussy already had duplicates in a portifollo. Only the Old Boys, instead of giving anything to Dr. Gussy personally, presented his picture to the library (none might hang in the Great Hall save Dr. Lanchester only), and, by a happy thought, entrusted the painting of it to an Old Chilternian whom Nature had intended for a caricaturist, but who had elected to win fame as a portrait-painter. And to each division separately Dr. Gussy made one of the felicitous little speeches for which he was famous. To the Lower School he said that, whenever he saw that splendid Tantalus on his sideboard, for he should give it the place of honour on his sideboard (those who knew Mrs. Gussy best thought otherwise), he should remember the kind thought of the givers and be with them again in the spirit. (Cheers, but no laughter, the Lower School being in too solemn a mood to anticipate a jest.) To the Removes he said that he would now be able, from his peaceful Deanery, to watch the Removes, through his telescope, studying their lessons with the zeal and enthusiasm for which they had always been famous. (Laughter and applause.) To the Fifths he said that, whenever he reclined in that luxurious chair--and he hoped that he would have time and leisure at last to recline, occasionally, in an easy-chair (suppressed amusement)--he should always think of the happy, strenuous days which he had lived amongst them and for them; for they had always been, and always would be, very near to his heart. (Emotion, and a murmur at the back of “Good old Gussy.”) To the Prefects he said that, whenever he looked at those beautiful and interesting prints--and he should look at them daily, for they would be hanging on his walls (cheers)--he would see the dear old place repeopled again with the faces that he had now before him, and take courage in the thought of the simple, manly, unostentatious, but whole-hearted devotion to duty which had always been characteristic of the Prefects at Chiltern, and which had given its high moral tone to the school that they loved so well. (Prolonged sensation.)