him to get down to
supper.

The latter wandered off, wondering more than ever what could have been
the object of the private gathering in Thurston's study which he had
just interrupted.

"It's what I told you before," remarked Carton, when Diggory chanced to
mention what had happened. "Thirsty's going to the dogs, and I believe
big Fletcher's got a lot to do with it. Allingford can't interfere with
them as long as they keep to themselves. I don't know what they do, but
I shouldn't be surprised if there is a rare old kick-up one of these
fine days."

Mischief certainly was brewing, and the "kick-up" came sooner than even
Carton himself expected.

CHAPTER XII.

THE WRAXBY MATCH.

Wednesday, the twenty-fourth of July, saw the whole of Ronleigh College
in a state of bustle and excitement. The near approach of the holidays
was sufficient in itself to put every one in high spirits, while, in
addition to this, the afternoon was to witness the chief cricket contest
of the season--the annual match against Wraxby Grammar School. During
the hour before dinner the ground itself was a scene of brisk activity:
the school colours flew at the summit of the flagstaff; the boundary
flags fluttered in the breeze; a number of willing hands, under the
direction of Allingford, put a finishing touch to the pitch with the big
roller, while others assisted in rigging up the two screens of white
canvas in line with the wickets.

"I do hope we lick them," said little "Rats" to Jack Vance as they stood
by the pavilion, watching Oaks mixing some whiting for the creases;
"we _must_ somehow or other."

"Why?"

"Why? because they've beaten us now three times running; and the last
time when our chaps went over to Wraxby and got licked at footer their
captain asked Ally if in future we should like to play a master!
Such rot!" continued the youthful "Rats," boiling with wrath; "as if we
couldn't smash them without! Look here, I'd give--I'd give sixpence if
we could win!" and with this burst of patriotic enthusiasm the speaker
hurried away to join Maxton, who, with an old sprung racquet in one hand
and the inside of an exploded cricket-ball in the other, was calling to
him from the adjoining playing field to "Come and play tip and run, and
bring something that'll do for a wicket."

The feelings expressed by "Rats" as regards the result of the match were
shared by the whole school, and by none more so than the members of the
Thir