Myers detected him, and raised such an outcry that he had to put it back into his pocket. He did not want to have everybody at the table laughing at him. So he sat silent, trying to recite the speech to himself.
Before long the formality was all dissipated. Mr. Jackson, the choirmaster, raised suddenly, from his seat at the foot of the long table, the St. Timothy's song, which was at once taken up by all the others; and after that there was no more constraint. At last, when the ice-cream had been brought on, Mr. Eldredge rose and rapped on the table; and Harry felt a nervous, chilly tremor down his spine.
"We have now come," said Mr. Eldredge, "to the literary part of our celebration. I regret that we have n't a poet to do justice to our annual victory over St. John's."
There was loud applause for the phrase "annual victory," and Mr. Eldredge continued:—
"In default of a poet, I am going to call on one who, we can feel sure, will have something ready and appropriate to say to us, even
