There was a group of men round the fire-place in the big room. "Halloa! here's Binney Minor," said one of them. "How's your major getting on, old man?"
Then many agreeable pleasantries were fired off at him, while he sat on one of the long seats and pretended to read a paper. When it was found that the pleasantries did not amuse him, and he was taking his fate seriously, they ceased, and by-and-bye an exodus took place and he was left to himself.
"I'm afraid poor old Lucy's papa is rather a trial to him," said one of his late tormentors as they walked up Jesus Lane in the sedate and easy manner affected by undergraduates who value their position. "What has he come up for, any way?"
"To look after Lucy, I suppose," said another, "but I don't know why; he's straight enough."
"Have you seen the little beggar?" inquired Blathgowrie, who was one of the group. "He's one of the rummiest little beggars you ever saw; rather like an elderly jockey who's got into parliament. Can't think where Lucy gets his good looks from. His mother must have been a ripper."
"I saw him on the river yesterday," said a rowing man; "he was coxing a First Trinity boat and shouting away as if he had been at it all his life. The crew looked frightened and the coach couldn't get a word in edgeways. I think that little man is going to afford us some amusement."
"If he's going to play the fool," said the first man, "that's why Lucy looks so glum when he's chaffed, and I don't wonder at it. I must say it's beastly hard lines on him, and he's such a good chap. Binney major's the sort of governor one would like to keep in the background. Here's Dizzy."
Dizzy was on his way to the "Pitt." When he got there he found Lucius sitting alone, looking the picture of misery. A few Bloods were talking blatantly round the fire, and some quiet members were trying to write letters or read the papers in other parts of the room.
"Well, how has he been behaving?" asked Dizzy, sitting down by his friend.
"I haven't seen him yet," said Lucius. "I can't think why."