Nor did his dignity decline the honour. He took his father’s arm, and, letting the younger ones drive home with John and the luggage, walked and talked with his father till they reached the house. His mother and sisters were at the door to welcome him. Never had there been such a pleasant, proud home-coming yet. The servants peeped from the upper windows to see “Master Frank,” whom they doubtless expected to find completely transformed, and John, taking the luggage from the carriage, again took stock of him, and told the servants with an air that, as always, carried weight,—
“Arter all, there’s no place like college to make a man of a young gentleman.”
One scene more to complete the first act of our freshman’s life.
Mr. Ross was, as became a lawyer, a man of sound business-like habits. Directly after breakfast on the following morning he called Frank into his study, and they went together through all the bills.
The result of their investigation was as follows:—
| £ | s. | d. | |
|---|---|---|---|
| Travelling and Hotel Expenses at Matriculation | 5 | 10 | 0 |
| Caution Money (to Paul’s) | 30 | 0 | 0 |
| Matriculation Fee (to the University) | 2 | 10 | 0 |
| Glass and China (to the scout) | 9 | 19 | 6 |
| Cap and Gown | 1 | 2 | 6 |
| Entrance Fee (Union Society) | 1 | 5 | 0 |
| Boat Club Subscription | 3 | 10 | 0 |
| Cricket Club | 2 | 10 | 0 |
| Paul’s Debating Society | 0 | 2 | 6 |
| Rifle Corps | 5 | 0 | 0 |
| Valuation of Furniture | 30 | 0 | 0 |
| Battels for Summer Term | 35 | 0 | 0 |
| Fee for Responsions | 1 | 0 | 0 |
| Books, Sundries, and Travelling Expenses | 10 | 0 | 0 |
The summer passed. Frank had been to the Henley Regatta at Crawford’s invitation, and had stayed with him at the old “Red Lion” with various crews; had run down the bank at his side when he was practising for the Diamond Sculls in the sweet June mornings, and had shouted with the shouting crowd when he won the race, beating the London man and the Cantab who had been training “dark.” Then he had gone to Crawford’s home for a pleasant week; then back to little Porchester, where, with garden-parties and cricket, with boating on the river that seemed so deserted after the crowded Isis, and lawn-tennis, the time had passed away happily enough. Of work for the “Schools” Frank had done little or nought; but when in August the vicar’s daughter left Porchester for six weeks, work somehow seemed easier, and he managed to get through a fair amount; and again, when the boys went back to school about the middle of September, and he was left alone with his parents and sisters, there seemed fresh opportunities for study. But then—but then back came the vicar’s daughter, and books were again forgotten. The village seemed to have gained fresh beauties. Every old gate and stile seemed no longer made of common wood, every hedge no longer clad with common green. The organ-loft where she practised in the week was no longer a dusty, dark, break-neck place, but the place for breaking something which, whatever lovers may say, is often easily mended by
“Time and the change the old man brings.”
And what a poet Frank was in those days! How he idealized, and in his own fashion glorified, every little winding woodland path, every glimpse of wold seen through the fading autumn leaves, every stretch of quiet river, the old boats, the crumbling bridge, the dark weir, the church-tower—that useful part of a young poet’s stock-in-trade.