tongs, and shattered them on his neck.  The smashing of the furniture and the pulling down of the house seemed likely to succeed—­when Geoffrey’s eye lighted by accident on Julius, and Geoffrey’s voice, calling fiercely for his brother, hushed the wild assembly into sudden attention, and turned the fiery enthusiasm into a new course.  Hooray for his brother!  One, two, three—­and up with his brother on our shoulders!  Four five, six—­and on with his brother, over our heads, to the other end of the room!  See, boys—­see! the hero has got him by the collar! the hero has lifted him on the table!  The hero heated red-hot with his own triumph, welcomes the poor little snob cheerfully, with a volley of oaths.  “Thunder and lightning!  Explosion and blood!  What’s up now, Julius?  What’s up now?”

Julius recovered his breath, and arranged his coat.  The quiet little man, who had just muscle enough to lift a dictionary from the shelf, and just training enough to play the fiddle, so far from being daunted by the rough reception accorded to him, appeared to feel no other sentiment in relation to it than a sentiment of unmitigated contempt.

“You’re not frightened, are you?” said Geoffrey.  “Our fellows are a roughish lot, but they mean well.”

“I am not frightened,” answered Julius.  “I am only wondering—­when the Schools and Universities of England turn out such a set of ruffians as these—­how long the Schools and Universities of England will last.”

“Mind what you are about, Julius!  They’ll cart you out of window if they hear you.”

“They will only confirm my opinion of them, Geoffrey, if they do.”

Here the assembly, seeing but not hearing the colloquy between the two brothers, became uneasy on the subject of the coming race.  A roar of voices summoned Geoffrey to announce it, if there was any thing wrong.  Having pacified the meeting, Geoffrey turned again to his brother, and asked him, in no amiable mood, what the devil he wanted there?

“I want to tell you something, before I go back to Scotland,” answered Julius.  “My father is willing to give you a last chance.  If you don’t take it, my doors are closed against you as well as his.”

Nothing is more remarkable, in its way, than the sound common-sense and admirable self-restraint exhibited by the youth of the present time when confronted by an emergency in which their own interests are concerned.  Instead of resenting the tone which his brother had taken with him, Geoffrey instantly descended from the pedestal of glory on which he stood, and placed himself without a struggle in the hands which vicariously held his destiny—­otherwise, the hands which vicariously held the purse.  In five minutes more the meeting had been dismissed, with all needful assurances relating to Geoffrey’s share in the coming Sports—­and the two brothers were closeted together in one of the private rooms of the inn.

“Out with it!” said Geoffrey.  “And don’t be long about it.”