'The fines! said Mr Sniggs, gently rubbing his pipe along the side of his nose. 'Oh my! the fines there'll be after this evening!

There is some highly prized port in the senior commonroom cellars that is only brought up when the College fines have reached £50.

'We shall have a week of it at least, said Mr Postlethwaite, 'a week of Founder's port.

A shriller note could now be heard rising from Sir Alastair's rooms; any who have heard that sound will shrink at the recollection of it; it is the sound of the English county families baying for broken glass. Soon they would all be tumbling out into the quad, crimson and roaring in their bottle‑green evening coats, for the real romp of the evening.

'Don't you think it might be wiser if we turned out the light? said Mr Sniggs.

In darkness the two dons crept to the window. The quad below was a kaleidoscope of dimly discernible faces.

'There must be fifty of them at least, said Mr Postlethwaite. 'If only they were all members of the College! Fifty of them at ten pounds each. Oh my!

'It'll be more if they attack the Chapel, said Mr Sniggs. 'Oh, please God, make them attack the Chapel.

'I wonder who the unpopular undergraduates are this term. They always attack their rooms. I hope they have been wise enough to go out for the evening.

'I think Partridge will be one; he possesses a painting by Matisse or some such name.

'And I'm told he has black sheets on his bed.

'And Sanders went to dinner with Ramsay MacDonald once.

'And Rending can afford to hunt, but collects china instead.

'And smokes cigars in the garden after breakfast.

'Austen has a grand piano.

'They'll enjoy smashing that.

'There'll be a heavy bill for to‑night; just you see! But I confess I should feel easier if the Dean or the Master were in. They can't see us from here, can they?