Relieved, she was also a trifle shocked. Was it possible that he, a responsible old man, could take things so lightly?
“Oh, grand-papa,” she answered, hanging her head, “what CAN I say? It is—it is too, too, dreadful.”
“There, there, my dear. I was but jesting. If you have had an agreeable time, you are forgiven for playing truant. Where have you been all day?”
She saw that she had misjudged him. “I have just come from the river,” she said gravely.
“Yes? And did the College make its fourth bump to-night?”
“I—I don’t know, grand-papa. There was so much happening. It—I will tell you all about it at dinner.”
“Ah, but to-night,” he said, indicating his gown, “I cannot be with you. The bump-supper, you know. I have to preside in Hall.”
Zuleika had forgotten there was to be a bump-supper, and, though she was not very sure what a bump-supper was, she felt it would be a mockery to-night.
“But grand-papa—” she began.
“My dear, I cannot dissociate myself from the life of the College. And, alas,” he said, looking at the clock, “I must leave you now. As soon as you have finished dinner, you might, if you would care to, come and peep down at us from the gallery. There is apt to be some measure of noise and racket, but all of it good-humoured and—boys will be boys—pardonable. Will you come?”