"Yes," said Grey. "I used to do my science and history at night, you know; but I find that teaching takes so much out of me, that I'm only fit for bed now, when I get back. I'm so glad I've told you. I have wanted to do it for some time. And if you would let me come in for an hour, directly after hall, instead of later, I think I could still manage that." "Of course," said Hardy, "come when you like. But it's rather hard to take you away every night, so near the examinations." "It is my own wish," said Grey. "I should have been very glad if it hadn't happened just now; but as it has I must do the best I can." "Well, but I should like to help you. Can't I take a night or two off your hands?" "No!" said Tom, fired with sudden enthusiasm; "it will be as bad for you, Hardy. It can't want much scholarship to teach there. Let me go. I'll take two nights a week if you'll let me." "Oh, thank you," said Grey; "but I don't know how my friend might like it. That is--I mean," he said, getting very red, "it's very kind of you, only I'm used to it; and--and they rely on me. But I really must go--good night;" and Grey went off in confusion. As soon as the door had fairly closed, Hardy could stand it no longer, and lay back in his chair laughing till the tears ran down his cheeks. Tom, wholly unable to appreciate the joke, sat looking at him with perfect gravity. "What can there be in your look, Brown?" said Hardy, when he could speak again, "to frighten Grey so? Did you see what a fright he was in at once, at the idea of turning you into the night schools? There must be some lurking Protestantism in your face somewhere, which I hadn't detected." "I don't believe he was frightened at me a bit. He wouldn't have you either, remember," said Tom. "Well, at any rate, that doesn't look as if it were all mere Gothic-mouldings and man-millinery, does it?" said Hardy. Tom sipped his tea, and considered. "One can't help admiring him, do you know, for it," he said. "Do you think he is really thrown back, now, in his own reading by this teaching?" "I'm sure of it. He is such a quiet fellow, that nothing else is likely to draw him off reading; I can see that he doesn't get on as he used, day by day. Unless he makes it up somehow, he won't get his first." "He don't seem to like the teaching work much," said Tom. "Not at all, so far as I can see." "Then it is a very fine thing of him," said Tom. "And you retract your man-millinery dictum, so far as he is concerned?" "Yes, that I do, heartily; but not as to the set in general." "Well, they don't suit me either; but, on the whole, they are wanted--at any rate, in this college. Even the worst of them is making some sort of protest for self-denial, and against self-indulgence, which is nowhere more needed than here." "A nice sort of protest--muslin curtains, a piano, and old claret."