"I don't mean to believe her, then," said Tom; "but what are you going to do now, to-night? Why didn't you write and tell me you were coming?" "We have been so shut up lately, owing to papa's bad health, that I really had almost forgotten that you were at Oxford." "By the bye," said Tom, "where is uncle?" "Oh, he is dining at the Vice-Chancellor's, who is an old college friend of his. We have only been up here three or four hours, and it has done him so much good. I am so glad we spirited him up to coming." "You haven't made any engagements yet, I hope?" "Indeed we have; I can't tell how many. We came in time for luncheon in Balliol. Mary and I made it our dinner, and we have been seeing sights ever since, and have been asked to go to I don't know how many luncheons and breakfasts." "What, with a lot of dons, I suppose?" said Tom, spitefully; "you won't enjoy Oxford, then; they'll bore you to death." "There now, Katie; that is just what I was afraid of," joined in Mary; "you remember we didn't hear a word about balls all the afternoon." "You haven't got your tickets for the balls, then?" said Tom, brightening up. "No, how shall we get them?" "Oh, I can manage that, I've no doubt." "Stop; how are we to go? Papa will never take us." "You needn't think about that; anybody will chaperone you. Nobody cares about that sort of thing at Commemoration." "Indeed I think you had better wait till I have talked to papa." "Then all the tickets will be gone," said Tom. "You must go. Why shouldn't I chaperone you? I know several men whose sisters are going with them." "No, that will scarcely do, I'm afraid. But really, Mary, we must go and dress." "Where are you going, then?" said Tom. "To an evening party at the Vice-Chancellor's; we are asked for nine o'clock, and the half hour has struck." "Hang the dons; how unlucky that I didn't know before! Have you any flowers, by the way?" "Not one." "Then I will try to get you some by the time you are ready. May I?" "Oh yes, pray, do," said Mary. "That's capital, Katie, isn't it? Now I shall have some thing to put in my hair; I couldn't think what I was to wear." Tom took a look at the hair in question, and then left them and hastened out to scour the town for flowers, as if his life depended on success. In the morning he would probably have resented as insulting, or laughed at as wildly improbable, the suggestion that he would be so employed before night. A double chair was drawn up opposite the door when he came back, and the ladies were coming down into the sitting-room. "Oh look, Katie! What lovely flowers! How very kind of you." Tom surrendered as much of his burden as that young lady's little round white hands could clasp, to her, and deposited the rest on the table.