l respect you
for."

Wyatt stopped for breath.

"All right," said Burgess, "I'll think it over. Frightful gift of the
gab you've got, Wyatt."

"Good," said Wyatt. "Think it over. And don't forget what I said about
the grandchildren. You would like little Wyatt Burgess and the other
little Burgesses to respect you in your old age, wouldn't you? Very
well, then. So long. The bell went ages ago. I shall be locked out."

* * * * *

On the Monday morning Mike passed the notice-board just as Burgess
turned away from pinning up the list of the team to play the M.C.C. He
read it, and his heart missed a beat. For, bottom but one, just above
the W. B. Burgess, was a name that leaped from the paper at him. His
own name.

CHAPTER XIII

THE M.C.C. MATCH

If the day happens to be fine, there is a curious, dream-like
atmosphere about the opening stages of a first eleven match.
Everything seems hushed and expectant. The rest of the school have
gone in after the interval at eleven o'clock, and you are alone on the
grounds with a cricket-bag. The only signs of life are a few
pedestrians on the road beyond the railings and one or two blazer and
flannel-clad forms in the pavilion. The sense of isolation is trying
to the nerves, and a school team usually bats 25 per cent. better
after lunch, when the strangeness has worn off.

Mike walked across from Wain's, where he had changed, feeling quite
hollow. He could almost have cried with pure fright. Bob had shouted
after him from a window as he passed Donaldson's, to wait, so that
they could walk over together; but conversation was the last thing
Mike desired at that moment.

He had almost reached the pavilion when one of the M.C.C. team came
down the steps, saw him, and stopped dead.

"By Jove, Saunders!" cried Mike.

"Why, Master Mike!"

The professional beamed, and quite suddenly, the lost, hopeless
feeling left Mike. He felt as cheerful as if he and Saunders had met
in the meadow at home, and were just going to begin a little quiet
net-practice.

"Why, Master Mike, you don't mean to say you're playing for the school
already?"

Mike nodded happily.

"Isn't it ripping," he said.

Saunders slapped his leg in a sort of ecstasy.

"Didn't I always say it, sir," he chuckled. "Wasn't I right? I used to
say to myself it 'ud be a pretty good school team that 'ud leave you
out."

"Of course, I'm only playing as a sub., you know. Three