He paused, as if expecting an answer.
“I daresay not,” said Hardy, “but I never was at a public school, unluckily, and so am no judge.”
“Well, then, as to the college life,” went on Tom, “it's all very well as far as it goes. There's plenty of liberty and good food. And the men seem nice fellows—many of them, at least, so far as I can judge. But I can't say that I like it as much as I liked our school life.”
“I don't understand,” said Hardy. “Why not?”
“Oh! I hardly know,” said Tom laughing; “I don't seem as if I had anything to do here; that's one reason, I think. And then, you see, at Rugby I was rather a great man. There one had a share in the ruling of 300 boys, and a good deal of responsibility; but here one has only just to take care of oneself, and keep out of scrapes; and that's what I never could do. What do you think a fellow ought to do, now, up here?”
“Oh I don't see much difficulty in that,” said his host, smiling; “get up your lectures well, to begin with.”
“But my lectures are a farce,” said Tom; “I've done all the books over and over again. They don't take me an hour a day to get up.”
“Well, then, set to work reading something regularly—reading for your degree, for instance.”
“Oh, hang it! I can't look so far forward as that; I shan't be going up for three years.”
“You can't begin too early. You might go and talk to your college-tutor about it.”