“Hullo, Pleydell, old man.  How’s things?  Don’t remember me, I suppose.  Lewis.”  He mentioned the name of the minor college he had once adorned.  “You were at Magdalen, weren’t you?”

Taken completely by surprise, Berry hesitated before replying in a tone which would have chilled a glacier.

“Er—­yes.  I’m afraid my memory’s not as good as yours.  You must excuse me.”

“That’s all right,” said the other, with a fat laugh.  “I was one of the quiet little mice,” he added archly, “and you were always such a gay dog.”  To our indescribable delectation he actually thrust a stubby forefinger into his victim’s ribs.

“Er—­yes,” said Berry, moving his chair as far from his tormentor as space would permit.  “I suppose you were.  One of the mice, I think you said.  You know, I still don’t seem to remember your face or name.  You’re quite sure....”

“Anno Domini,” was the cheerful reply.  “We’re both older, eh?  Don’t you remember the night we all——­But p’r’aps I oughtn’t to tell tales out of school, ought I, old bean?” Again the forefinger was employed, and its owner looked round expectantly.  Beads of perspiration became visible upon Berry’s forehead, and Jonah and I burst into a roar of laughter.

Greatly encouraged by our mirth, Mr. Lewis beamed with geniality, and, slapping Berry upon the back with the diamond ring, commended the good old times, observed that the undergraduates of to-day were of a very different class to “me and you,” and added that England was in such a rotten state that, if the Coal Controller had not personally begged him to “carry on,” he would have “up stick and cleared out to Australia long ago.”

At his concluding words Daphne sat up as if she had been shot.  Then, administering to me a kick, which she afterwards explained had been intended for Berry, she smiled very charmingly.

“I suppose you’re just up for the day, Mr. Lewis.  As we are,” she inquired.

With an elaborate bow Mr. Lewis agreed, and in a moment the two were carrying on an absurd conversation, to which Jonah and I contributed by laughing unfeignedly whenever a remark justified an expression of mirth.  Jill and Agatha were on the edge of hysteria, and Berry sat sunk in a condition of profound gloom, from which he occasionally emerged to fix one or other of us with a stare of such malevolence as only served to throw us into a fresh paroxysm of laughter.

Had Mr. Lewis for one moment appreciated the true cause of our amusement, he would have been a broken man.  Happily his self-confidence was sublime, and, when Daphne finally bowed and remarked with a dazzling smile that no doubt he and her husband would like to have a little chat after luncheon, he retired in a perfect ecstasy of gratification.

When he was out of earshot—­

“Why not ask him to come and live with us?” said Berry.  “He could go to the Loganberrys’ ball on Tuesday, and Jonah and I can put him up for the Club.  He might even stay for Ascot.”