At the mid-day dinner, in every house,
we all ate together; but at breakfast and supper we ate in four or
five separate `messes.' It was customary for the receiver of a hamper
to share the contents with his mess-mates. On one occasion I received,
instead of the usual variegated hamper, a box containing twelve
sausage-rolls. It happened that when this box arrived and was opened
by me there was no one around. Of sausage-rolls I was particularly
fond. I am sorry to say that I carried the box up to my cubicle, and,
having eaten two of the sausage-rolls, said nothing to my friends,
that day, about the other ten, nor anything about them when, three
days later, I had eaten them all--all, up there, alone.
Thirty years have elapsed, my school-fellows are scattered far and
wide, the chance that this page may meet the eyes of some of them does
not much dismay me; but I am glad there was no collective and
contemporary judgment by them on my strange exploit. What defence
could I have offered? Suppose I had said `You see, I am so essentially
a guest,' the plea would have carried little weight. And yet it would
not have been a worthless plea. On receipt of a hamper, a boy did
rise, always, in the esteem of his mess-mates. His sardines, his
marmalade, his potted meat, at any rate while they lasted, did make us
think that his parents `must be awfully decent' and that he was a not
unworthy son.
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