ipal object of his holiday practice?

Within a fortnight, Scaife was put into the Sixth Form game. Desmond
found himself--thanks to Scaife--playing in the First Fifth game; but
John was placed in Second Fifth Beta. Fortunately, he found an ally in
Warde, who had a private pitch in the small park surrounding the Manor,
where he coached the weaker players of his House. John told himself
that he ought to get his "cap"; but, as the weeks slipped by, despite
several creditable performances, he became aware that the "cap" was
withheld, although it had been given to Fluff. There were five
vacancies in the House Eleven, but, according to precedent, these need
not be filled up till after the last House-match, and possibly not even
then. In a word, John might play for the House, and even distinguish
himself, without receiving the coveted distinction. How sore John felt!

About the end of May he noticed that something was amiss with Caesar.
Generally they walked together on Sunday, but not always. During these
walks, as has been said, Caesar did most of the talking. Now, of a
sudden, he became a half-hearted listener, and to John's repeated
question, "What's up?" he would reply irritably, "Oh, don't
bother--nothing."

Finally, John heard from the Caterpillar that Caesar was playing
bridge, and losing.

"They don't play often," the Caterpillar added; "but on wet afternoons
they make up for lost time. Caesar is outclassed. I've told him, but
he's mad keen about the game."

Later, John learned from the same source that Sunday afternoon was a
bridge-fixture with Lovell and Co. At any rate, Caesar did not play on
Sunday. That was something.

Upon the following Saturday, after making an honest fifteen runs and
taking three wickets in a closely-contested game, John was running into
the Yard just before six Bill, when Lovell stopped him.

"You can get your 'cap,'" he said coldly.

"Oh, thanks; thanks awfully!"

Caesar received this agreeable news with indifference.

"You ought to have had it before Fluff," he growled.

"To-morrow, we'll walk to John Lyon's farm," said John, eagerly.

"Engaged," Caesar replied.

"Oh, Caesar, you're--you're----"

"Well?"

"You're going to play bridge?"

"Yes. What of it? It's only once in a way. I _do_ bar cards on
Sunday; but there are reasons."

"What reasons?"

"Reasons which--er--I'll keep to myself."

"All right," said John, stiffly, but with a breaking heart.