“Indeed we have; I can't tell how many. We came in time for luncheon in Balliol. Mary and I made it our dinner, and we have been seeing sights ever since, and have been asked to go to I don't know how many luncheons and breakfasts.”
“What, with a lot of dons, I suppose?” said Tom, spitefully; “you won't enjoy Oxford, then; they'll bore you to death.”
“There now, Katie; that is just what I was afraid of,” joined in Mary; “you remember we didn't hear a word about balls all the afternoon.”
“You haven't got your tickets for the balls, then?” said Tom, brightening up.
“No, how shall we get them?”
“Oh, I can manage that, I've no doubt.”
“Stop; how are we to go? Papa will never take us.”
“You needn't think about that; anybody will chaperone you. Nobody cares about that sort of thing at Commemoration.”
“Indeed I think you had better wait till I have talked to papa.”
“Then all the tickets will be gone,” said Tom. “You must go. Why shouldn't I chaperone you? I know several men whose sisters are going with them.”