When I went back to my sitter I found that the blight which had always settled upon them when they were together was disappearing quickly. They were talking quite amiably, and although I should have been glad to have said something to show that I noticed the change, I expect that it was prudent of me to be silent. For the first time, as far as I could remember, we met without wondering how soon we could separate, and I had the sort of feeling which I should think a great-grandfather must have when he is celebrating his ninetieth birthday in the presence of his not too numerous descendants. I just sat and felt placid for some time, until I woke up and told Fred that we were supposed to have a mad fresher in college.
"You are always getting hold of freaks," he answered, and I asked him what he meant.
"You've got about half-a-dozen men here whose names look as if they have been turned hind-before; St. Cuthbert's has always been a home for a peculiar brand of potentate."
"Potentate!" I said scornfully; "besides, colour is not everything."
"Prince, if you like." But I knew that he was trying to draw me on, so I said nothing. To hear me in defence of my own college was, I am sorry to say, a great pleasure to him.
"Do you know how this report of Thornton being mad began?" Jack asked. "I'm rather keen on this, and believe it can be made into a much better rag than Lambert and Dennison think. It may be a chance to squash them altogether."
"Lambert has been trying to persuade me to help," I said. "I told him I would have nothing to do with his blessed rag."
"The best of the whole thing is that I don't believe Thornton is a lunatic. Collier says he isn't, and both Learoyd and Murray say he's not mad, but awfully clever or a humorist."
"Murray!" I exclaimed, but Jack was losing the power to astonish me very much.
"He's all right, I met him in Learoyd's room," Jack said, and began to laugh.