would brood. 'Oh, go thee, knave, I'll none of
thee.' Shakespeare."

Psmith turned away, and resting his elbows on the mantelpiece, gazed at
himself mournfully in the looking glass.

"I'm not the man I was," he sighed, after a prolonged inspection. "There
are lines on my face, dark circles beneath my eyes. The fierce rush of
life at Sedleigh is wasting me away."

"Stone and I had a discussion about early-morning fielding practice,"
said Adair, turning to Mike.

Mike said nothing.

"I thought his fielding wanted working up a bit, so I told him to turn
out at six tomorrow morning. He said he wouldn't, so we argued it out.
He's going to all right. So is Robinson."

Mike remained silent.

"So are you," said Adair.

"I get thinner and thinner," said Psmith from the mantelpiece.

Mike looked at Adair, and Adair looked at Mike, after the manner of two
dogs before they fly at one another. There was an electric silence in
the study. Psmith peered with increased earnestness into the glass.

"Oh?" said Mike at last. "What makes you think that?"

"I don't think. I know."

"Any special reason for my turning out?"

"Yes."

"What's that?"

"You're going to play for the school against the M.C.C. tomorrow, and I
want you to get some practice."

"I wonder how you got that idea!"

"Curious I should have done, isn't it?"

"Very. You aren't building on it much, are you?" said Mike politely.

"I am, rather," replied Adair, with equal courtesy.

"I'm afraid you'll be disappointed."

"I don't think so."

"My eyes," said Psmith regretfully, "are a bit close together. However,"
he added philosophically, "it's too late to alter that now."

Mike drew a step closer to Adair.

"What makes you think I shall play against the M.C.C.?" he asked
curiously.

"I'm going to make you."

Mike took another step forward. Adair moved to meet him.

"Would you care to try now?" said Mike.

For just one second the two drew themselves together preparatory to
beginning the serious business of the interview, and in that second
Psmith, turning from the glass, stepped between them.

"Get out of the light, Smith," said Mike.

Psmith waved him back with a deprecating gesture.

"My dear young friends," he said placidly, "if you _will_ let your angry
passions rise, against the direct advice of Doctor Watts, I suppose you
must. But when you propose to claw each other in my study, in the midst
of a hundred fragile and priceless ornam