“I think I can help you,” said Tom. “I've just been hearing a lecture in Roman history, and one that won't be so easy to forget as most;” and he went on to explain Hardy's plans, to which Blake listened eagerly.
“Capital!” he said, when Tom had finished. “In whose rooms did you say they are?”
“In Hardy's, and he works at them every night with Grey.”
“That's the queer big servitor, his particular pal,” put in Drysdale; “there's no accounting for tastes.”
“You don't know him,” retorted Tom; “and the less you say about him the better.”
“I know he wears highlows and short flannels, and-”
“Would you mind asking Hardy to let me come to his lectures?” interrupted Blake, averting the strong language which was rising to Tom's lips. “I think they seem just the things I want. I shouldn't like to offer to pay him, unless you think-”
“I'm quite sure,” interrupted Tom, “that he won't take anything. I will ask him to-morrow whether he will let you come, and he is such a kind good fellow that I'm almost sure he will.”
“I should like to know your pal, too, Brown,” said Drysdale; “you must introduce me, with Blake.”
“No, I'll be hanged if I do,” said Tom.