“That’s Templeton-Collins,” said Michael.
“He’s the man who used to live in these rooms last year,” said Lonsdale lightly, as if that were the most satisfactory description for these freshmen, as indeed for all its youthful heartlessness it was.
“Let’s all yell and tell him to shut up that infernal row,” suggested Wedderburn sternly. Already from sitting in an armchair at the head of a table of freshmen he was acquiring an austere seniority of his own.
“To a second-year blood?” whispered somebody in dread surprise.
“Why not take away the coach-horn?” Lonsdale added.
However, this the freshmen were not prepared to do, although with unanimity they invited Templeton-Collins to refrain from blowing it.
“Keep quiet, little boys,” shouted Templeton-Collins down the stairs.
The sixteen freshmen retreated well pleased with their audacity, and the long-legged Wykehamist proclaimed delightedly that this was going to be a hot year. “I vote we have a bonner.”
“Will you light it, Sinclair?” asked another Wykehamist in a cynical drawl.
“Oh, I don’t know. But you always used to be better at theory than practice.”
“How these Wykehamists love one another,” laughed an Etonian.
This implied criticism welded the four Winchester men present in defiance of all England, and Michael was impressed by their haughty and bigoted confidence.
“Sunday night is the proper time for a bonner,” said Wedderburn. “After the first ‘after.’”
“Oh, don’t you know? Haven’t you heard?” several well-informed freshmen began, but Wedderburn with his accustomed gravity assumed the burden of instruction, and the others gave way.
“Every Sunday after hall,” he explained, “people go up to the J. C. R. and take wine and dessert. Healths are drunk, and of course the second-year men try to make the freshers blind. Then everybody goes round to one of the large rooms in Cloisters for the ‘after Common Room.’ People sing and do various parlor tricks. The President of the J. C. R. gives the first ‘after’ of the term. The others are usually given by three or four men together. Whisky and cigars and lemon-squash. They usually last till nearly twelve. Great sport. They’re much better than private wines, better for everybody. That’s why we have them on Sunday night,” he concluded rather vaguely.