"'—For smalls.'"

Mrs. Dodd contrived to sigh interrogatively.
Julia, who understood her every accent, reminded
her that "smalls" was the new word for "little
go."

"'—Cramming for smalls; and now I am in two
races at Henley, and that rather puts the snaffle
on reading and gooseberry pie' (Goodness me),
'and adds to my chance of being ploughed for
smalls.'"

"What does it all mean?" inquired mamma,
"'gooseberry pie?' and 'the snaffle?' and
'ploughed?'"

"Well, the gooseberry pie is really too deep
for me: but ploughed is the new Oxfordish
for 'plucked.' O mamma, have you forgotten
that? Plucked was vulgar, so now they are
ploughed.

"'—For smalls; but I hope I shall not be, to
vex you and puss.'"

"Heaven forbid he should be so disgraced!
But what has the cat to do with it?"

"Nothing on earth. Puss? that is me. How
dare he? Did I not forbid all these nicknames,
and all this Oxfordish, by proclamation, last
Long."

'"Last Long?"

"Hem! last protracted vacation.

"'—Dear mamma, sometimes I cannot help
being down in the mouth' (why, it is a string of
pearls) 'to think you have not got a son like
Hardie.'"

At this unfortunate reflection it was Julia's
turn to suffer. She deposited the letter in
her lap, and fired up. "Now, have not I
cause to hate, and scorn, and despise, le petit
Hardie?"

"Julia!"

"I mean to dislike with propriety, and gently
to abominate Mr. Hardie, junior.

"'—Dear mamma, do come to Henley on the
tenth, you and Ju. The university eights will
not be there, but the head boats of the Oxford
and Cambridge river will; and the Oxford head
boat is Exeter, you know; and I pull six.'"

"Then I am truly sorry to hear it; my poor
child will overtask his strength; and how unfair
of the other young gentlemen; it seems
ungenerous; unreasonable."

"'—And I am entered for the sculls as well,
and if you and "the Impetuosity"' (Vengeance!)
'were looking on from the bank, I do think I
should be lucky this time. Henley is a long way
from Barkington, but it is a pretty place; all the
ladies admire it, and like to see both the
universities out and a stunning race.'

"Oh, well, there is an epithet. One would
think thunder was going to race lightning,
instead of Oxford Cambridge.

"'—If you can come, please write, and I will
get you nice lodgings; I will not let you go to a
noisy inn. Love to Julia and no end of kisses
to my pretty mamma,

"'from your affectionate Son,

                                         "'EDWARD DODD.'"

They wrote off a cordial assent, and reached
Henley in time to see the dullest town in Europe;
and also to see it turn one of the gayest in an
hour or two; so impetuously came both the
universities pouring into it—in all known vehicles
that could go their pace—by land and water.

CHAPTER I.

IT was a bright hot day in June. Mrs. Dodd
and Julia sat half reclining, with their parasols
up, in an open carriage, by the brink of the
Thames at one of its loveliest bends.

About a furlong up stream a silvery stone
bridge, just mellowed by time, spanned the river
with many fair arches. Through these the
coming river peeped sparkling a long way above,
then came meandering and shining down, loitered
cool and sombre under the dark vaults, then
glistening on again crookedly to the spot where
sat its two fairest visitors that day; but at that
very point flung off its serpentine habits, and shot
straight away in a broad stream of scintillating
water a mile long, down to an island in mid-
stream; a little fairy island with old trees and
a white temple. To curl round this fairy
isle the broad current parted, and both silver
streams turned purple in the shade of the grove;
then winded and melted from the sight.

This noble and rare passage of the silvery
Thames was the Henley race-course. The starting
place was down at the island, and the goal
was up at a point in the river below the bridge,
but above the bend where Mrs. Dodd and Julia
sat, unruffled by the racing, and enjoying luxuriously
the glorious stream, the mellow bridge
crowded with carriages—whose fair occupants
stretched a broad band of bright colour above
the dark figures clustering on the battlements—
and the green meadows opposite with the motley
crowd streaming up and down.

Nor was that sense, which seems especially
keen and delicate in women, left unregaled in
the general bounty of the time. The green
meadows on the opposite bank, and the gardens
at the back of our fair friends, flung their sweet
fresh odours at their liquid benefactor gliding
by; and the sun himself seemed to burn
perfumes, and the air to scatter them, over the
motley merry crowd, that bright, hot, smiling, airy
day in June.

Thus tuned to gentle enjoyment, the fair
mother and her lovely daughter leaned back in a
delicious languor proper to their sex, and eyed
with unflagging, though demure, interest, and
furtive curiosity, the wealth of youth, beauty,
stature, agility, gaiety, and good temper, the
two great universities had poured out upon those
obscure banks; all dressed in neat but easy
fitting clothes, cut in the height of the fashion,
or else in Jerseys, white or striped, and flannel
trousers, and straw hats, or cloth caps of bright
and various hues; betting, strolling, laughing,
chaffing, larking, and whirling stunted bludgeons
at Aunt Sally.