Harry helped himself to kidneys and sat down by Robin, still humming the refrain of the Cornish song he had heard at his window. "By Jove, I'm late--mustard, Robin, my boy--can't think how I slept like that. Why, in New Zealand I was always up with the lark--had to be, you know, there was always such heaps to do--the bread, old boy, if you can get hold of it. I remember once getting up at three in the morning to go and play cricket somewhere--fearful hot day it was, but I knocked up fifty, I remember. Probably the bowling was awfully soft, although I remember one chap--Pulling, friend of Durand's--could fairly twist 'em down the pitch--made you damned well jump. Talking of cricket, I suppose you play, Robin? Did you get your cap or whatever they call it--College colours, you know?" "Oh, cricket!" said Robin indifferently. "No, I didn't play. The chaps at King's who ran the games were rather outers--pretty thoroughly barred by the decent men. None of the 'Gracchi' went in for the sports." "Oh!" said Harry, considerably surprised. "And who the deuce are the 'Gracchi'?" "A society I was on," said Robin, a little wearily--it was so annoying to be forced to talk at breakfast. "A literary society--essays, with especial attention paid to the New Literature. We made it our boast that we never went back further than Meredith, except, of course, when one had to, for origins and comparisons. Randal, who's coming to stop for a few days, was president last year and read some awfully good papers." Harry stared blankly. He had thought that every one played cricket and football, especially when they were strong and healthy like Robin. He had not quite understood about the society--and who was Meredith? "I shall be glad to meet your friend," he said. "Is he still at Cambridge?" "Oh, Randal!" said Robin. "No, he came down the same time as I did. He only got a second in History, although he was worth a first any day of the week. But he had such lots of other things to do--his papers for the 'Gracchi' took up any amount of time--and then history rather bored him. He's very popular here, especially with all Fallacy Street people." "The Fallacy Street people!" repeated Harry, still more bewildered. "Who are they?" "Oh! I suppose you've forgotten," said Robin, mildly surprised. "They're all the people who're intellectual in Pendragon. If you live in Fallacy Street you're one of the wits. It's like belonging to the 'Mermaid' used to be, you know, in Shakespeare's time. They're really awfully clever--some of them--the Miss Ponsonbys and Mrs. le Terry--Aunt Clare thinks no end of Mrs. le Terry." Robin's voice sounded a little awed. He had a great respect for Fallacy Street. "Oh, they won't have any room for me," said Harry, laughing. "I'm an awfully stupid old duffer. I haven't read anything at all, except a bit of Kipling--'Barrack-room Ballads'--seems a waste of time to read somehow."