don't you play now?"

"I do. I play for a village near here. Place called Lower Borlock. A man
who played against Wrykyn for the Free Foresters captains them. He asked
me if I'd like some games for them."

"But why not for the school?"

"Why should I? It's much better fun for the village. You don't get
ordered about by Adair, for a start."

"Adair sticks on side," said Stone.

"Enough for six," agreed Robinson.

"By Jove," said Stone, "I've got an idea. My word, what a rag!"

"What's wrong now?" inquired Mike politely.

"Why, look here. Tomorrow's Mid-Term Service Day. It's nowhere near the
middle of the term, but they always have it in the fourth week. There's
chapel at half past nine till half past ten. Then the rest of the day's
a whole holiday. There are always house matches. We're playing
Downing's. Why don't you play and let's smash them?"

"By Jove, yes," said Robinson. "Why don't you? They're always sticking
on side because they've won the house cup three years running. I say, do
you bat or bowl?"

"Bat. Why?"

Robinson rocked on the table.

"Why, old Downing fancies himself as a bowler. You _must_ play, and
knock the cover off him."

"Masters don't play in house matches, surely?"

"This isn't a real house match. Only a friendly. Downing always turns
out on Mid-Term Service Day. I say, do play."

"Think of the rag."

"But the team's full," said Mike.

"The list isn't up yet. We'll nip across to Barnes's study, and make him
alter it."

They dashed out of the room. From down the passage Mike heard yells of
"_Barnes_!" the closing of a door, and a murmur of excited conversation.
Then footsteps returning down the passage.

Barnes appeared, on his face the look of one who has seen visions.

"I say," he said, "is it true? Or is Stone rotting? About Wrykyn, I
mean."

"Yes, I was in the team."

Barnes was an enthusiastic cricketer. He studied his _Wisden_, and he
had an immense respect for Wrykyn cricket.

"Are you the M. Jackson, then, who had an average of fifty-one point
naught three last year?"

"Yes."

Barnes's manner became like that of a curate talking to a bishop.

"I say," he said, "then--er--will you play against Downing's tomorrow?"

"Rather," said Mike. "Thanks awfully. Have some tea?"

11

THE MATCH WITH DOWNING'S

It is the curious instinct which prompts most people to rub a thing in
that makes the lot of the average convert an unhappy one. Only the very
self