‘O several thousand,’ she said cheerfully. ‘You see the Duchess of Dopingburgh is kissing all comers at half-a-crown a time, and Violet MacNeill is going to serve at the American bar. But I think we’d better be going back,’ she added, ‘if we don’t want to be left here for the night.’
As we regained the scene of the orgy, Freddy gathered up all the remaining cloths and thrust them into a small trunk, while Mr. Accrington sat upon it and tried to turn the lock without much success.
‘There they are,’ cried Blithers as we appeared, ‘now let’s be going.’
‘What punt are you going in, Ophelia?’ Freddy enquired.
‘Oh, I’ll go in the most aggressive one,’ Miss Bugg replied with a pleasant smile, ‘I’m all for going fast.’
And so we embarked in a most amiable mood. The return journey was more or less uneventful, though my conversation with Violet MacNeill was quite the reverse. The unfortunate de Beresford who punted us down must have had a very poor time, for Blithers and Mrs. Lomond were much too busily engaged to pay any attention to him.
As we proceeded up the Broad Walk Mrs. Accrington sidled up to me and enquired with evident anxiety, ‘How do you think Steve is getting on with his work? he writes us such cheering letters, but we saw Mr. Yelland to-day and he seemed most despondent.’
‘O the Yelper is always a Job’s Comforter, Mrs. Accrington,’ I said, ‘besides poor old Stephen’s quite a model worker.’
This seemed to satisfy the anxious parent, and I guided the conversation into less dangerous channels. Before the various families split up we made arrangements for a round of sight seeing on the following day, which was to finish with the James’ Ball. On the morrow all my time was taken up with an old friend of the family who had come down for the day, and I had to undergo all the sufferings of a hired guide round Oxford who doesn’t know his subject well. I contrived however to send her off soon after tea, and gained comparative rest by a couple of hours’ bridge in Farmborough’s rooms. We all dined with Mr. Accrington at the Hyde, and started about 9.0 for the ball, gathering the famille Blitherington as we passed their hotel. After introducing as many people as possible to all the girls, I completely lost track of the party till about supper-time, being mostly engaged with my No. 1. girl from Somerville who is a very cheery little body but suffers from worker’s conscience, a most distressing weakness which prevents me seeing very much of her except at occasional dances. A ball at Oxford is a wonderfully pretty sight, and well calculated to impress anybody seeing one for the first time. All the men and the girls are young and fresh, and there is a complete absence of the doddering old men and young women of fifty who give a sad tone to big dances in London and elsewhere. The handsome quads of James’ were most artistically lighted with myriads of fairy lights and Chinese lanterns, and the beautiful old-world gardens twinkled, though not too brightly, with wonderful devices in red and yellow. Supper was laid in the fine hall of the College and I secured two seats for Muriel and myself under a famous Archbishop who has been dead for over three hundred years, and beside Blithers and Mrs. Lomond, who were very much alive.
‘Martha,’ said Blitherington, as I sat down, ‘try some of this fizz, it’s quite innocuous.’