Tora saw no reason why he could not succeed with the same method twice. "I tell you what," he said. "Just among friends and to show my appreciation for a pleasant game, why don't I use some of the winnings to treat you fellows to some really good wine?"

Their faces brightened instantly. "Here, runt!" shouted the cook to the smallest boy. "Run to the wine shop by the Left City Hall! They've got the strong stuff."

Tora scooped up his winnings, carefully counted out a generous amount and turned it over to the boy. "Get plenty!" he instructed, "and some tasty pickled radish to go with it."

There was a murmur of appreciation. The cook remarked that there were still some true gentlemen left in the world.

While they were waiting, Tora introduced himself as the new professor's servant and received, in return, information about the university, its staff, its professors and its students. The point of view on this occasion differed markedly from that held by the clerks. The kitchen staff and the groundskeepers and sweepers regarded students and faculty as inconsiderate nuisances who made their lives a constant misery. As soon as the wine, a very strong brew indeed, had made the rounds, their tongues loosened in the most helpful manner.

"I can see," Tora remarked to one of the sweepers, "that those youngsters are a lot of trouble to clean up after."

The man responded with a long list of abominations, but the cook snorted. "You think he's got trouble? The lazy rascal goes home at sundown. If you want to hear about trouble, it's me and my old woman you got to talk to. We're kept awake all night with the tricks those cursed students get up to."

"What sorts of tricks?" Tora asked, filling cups all around, but skipping his own.

"Oh, climbing the walls to get out. Smuggling in loose women. Breaking into the pantry and stealing food. Burning candles at night and setting the place on fire. You name it, they do it. Every night my old woman has to do a bed check, looking for their doxies."

"Doesn't trust you to do it, does she?" Tora remarked, grinning broadly.

This caused raucous mirth. One of the workers cried, "Him? He's so lazy, he wouldn't know what to do with a girl in his bed 'cept sleep. His old woman does the checking 'cause he's sacked out before the rest of us ever go home."

The cook glared, rolling his crossed eyes terribly. "Liar," he growled. "All day long I'm cooking to keep the little bastards' bowls filled! They eat like starved rats and beg for leftovers. Most of 'em don't have two coppers to rub together. Makes you wonder how they get the women! There's always a couple hungry enough to help out in the kitchen for a bit of extra food or a couple of coppers. It's my kindness! They steal more food than they're worth."

Tora thought this another example of how dubious a thing an education was. "If they are so poor, how come they get treated like gentlemen?" he asked.

The cook and the others looked at each other blankly. "Well," said the cook, "now that you mention it, it is funny. One day a starved kid comes begging to me for the scrapings of the stew pot, or offers to sell his gown for some rice. Out of the goodness of my heart, I give him a job. Then, a little while later, the same fellow is dressed like a prince in brand new clothes and looks down his nose at me like I was some slug under a rock when I ask him why he hasn't come to work."

"Yeah!" cried one of the boys. "I know the one you mean! Ishikawa! He used to fetch water from the well along with me last year. Now he wants me to call him Mr. Ishikawa."

"How'd he get rich all of a sudden?" asked Tora. "Some relative died and left him a fortune?"

"Naw," grunted the cook. The fat man's broad face was turning alarmingly red and glistening with sweat and he slurred his words. "Tha's what I thought at first. But tha' wasn't it. Eh, guys?"

They all shook their heads. The source of Ishikawa's wealth was a mystery to them. Anyway, the consensus of the group was that one couldn't understand the ways of students. They were crazy. All that reading was bad for the brain. Tora grinned.

"Take that Rabbit!" offered the cook.

"What rabbit?" asked Tora, looking around.

The cook saw a joke and began to giggle until tears ran down his fat cheeks. "Please!" he gasped, clasping his belly and wheezing with laughter. "He, he. Take the Rabbit! Har, har! You can have him." His companions joined in the laughter.

Tora looked blank until someone explained that Rabbit was the nickname of one of the cook's student helpers.

"Helper!" cried the cook, who had calmed himself somewhat with another draught of wine. "Useless as a blind man's lantern! Half the time I tell him sh… somethin' and he doesh shomethin' else. Jush las' night I tell him to put the rice on an' he forgets the rice and boils the empty steamers. Had to feed everybody leftover millet from breakfast. 'N when you talk to him, he shtands there with that shilly grin on his face an' his big ears flappin' or else a hangdog look like his mind is really shome other place an' you're no more'n a moshkito buzzing at him." He paused to peer up at the sun with his good eye. "Come to think, he's about due now. Musht be time to shtart up the fires again."

He heaved his bulk up with the help of his companions and stood swaying. "Damn good wine!" he muttered with a nod to Tora. "You're a pleashant fellow! Whash your name again?"

At that moment a terrible racket broke out inside the kitchen. Angry shouts rang out, followed by the crash of broken crockery. They ran to see what was going on.

Inside the long low kitchen they found two young men on the hard dirt floor, rolling about among broken dishes, assorted vegetables and a slimy gray substance which the outraged cook identified as millet gruel. One of the youngsters, a tall gangly figure who looked strangely familiar to Tora, was belaboring the other, shorter but more muscular, with his fists. "You dirty dog!" he gasped between blows, totally oblivious to his audience, "How dare you read my letter? How dare you make filthy insinuations! I'll kill you if you say one word about this to anyone!" He grabbed the other's shoulders and pounded his head on the floor to make his point.

"And I'll kill you, you worthless piece of dung!" roared the cook. He seized a broom and struck the gangly fellow furiously about the head and shoulders.

The combatants parted and staggered to their feet. The skinny one cowered under the cook's blows, protecting his head with raised arms. Tora recognized him as the student who had been working for the clerks. His appearance had not improved; plain of face at the best of times, with his long nose, protruding teeth, receding chin, and overly large ears, he was now covered with gruel and dirt, his hair knot had come undone, and his mouth hung open. With a horrified glance at Tora and the cook, he made a sound somewhere between a squeal and a sob, and took to his heels.

"An' don't bother to come back!" roared the cook after him, shaking his fist. "I'll have the damages outta your hide, you shnot-nosed, rabbitty bashtard!"

The other student meanwhile had been brushing himself off. He was Rabbit's age and, in spite of the pummeling, in reasonably good shape. Turning his round face and button eyes on the cook, he whined, "I have done nothing, Cook. I swear it! Rabbit jumped me all of a sudden. You saw I wasn't even defending myself. There I was, cleaning the radishes as you told me, when he threw the whole pot of gruel at me! Thank the gods it was cold. I could've been scalded. I tell you, he's mad! They shouldn't allow mad people to live amongst the rest of us. It's dangerous. And look at the terrible mess he's made of your kitchen. I don't know how a nice man like you can put up with such people."

Mollified the fat man collapsed on a stool, breathed hard for a while, then grunted, "Never mind, Haseo! One of the fellows'll give you a hand and we'll have it cleaned up in no time. Then you can start the soup. You're a good boy, and so I shall tell them in the paymashter's offish."