, like the Pied Piper, had an enormous crowd
of small boys at his back. In his hand was the paper which bore the
list of the Team.

"Who is it? Who is it?" demanded the crowd.

"Wait and see," said Lancaster, as great captains do.

And at that moment a first spot of rain fell. Honion looked up
apprehensively at a clouding sky. "I thought so," said he; and the
weighty words were passed from lip to lip.

The multitude swelled as the Captain drew near the notice-boards.
Rumour stalked abroad and loudly proclaimed that the lot had fallen
upon Doe. That young cricketer was walking with me at the tail of
the procession, very nervous but fairly confident. As for me, my
heart was fluttering, and there was an emptiness within.

"Come and tell me who it is," I said to Doe. "You'll find me
trembling like a frightened sparrow in the study."

With that I left him, and, going to our study, stood gazing out of
the window at a sudden shower of rain. To nerve myself for any shock
of disappointment I muttered monotonously some old words of
Radley's: "Does it matter to a strong swimmer if the wave beats
against him? Does it matter--does it matter--" Soon a roar of many
voices was heard in the distance. The list was up. I could not tell
whether they were cheering in triumph or groaning in dismay. Then
someone ran along the corridor and burst in. I remained looking out
of the window lest the expression on my friend's face should betray
the secret which I longed but dreaded to hear.

"My dear old fellow," said he, "it's--"

It was coming now. What a long time he took to tell it.

"It's _you_!"

"Good Lord!"

I had swung round on him.

"And I hope you take all the wickets," said he, with a smile of
generosity that he wished me to observe.

I couldn't speak, but turned again to look out of the window. The
rain was beating heavily against the panes. And Doe said nothing
till, being in a chastened mood, he resumed:

"I think you'll always cut me out, Rupert, because you're the solid
stuff, while I'm all show. You left me nowhere in Radley's good
books, and now in cricket--"

"But you leave me nowhere in brain-work," objected I, feeling that
the handsome appreciation, which he had tossed to me, ought to be
returned like a tennis ball.

"Oh, yes, of course, there _is_ that," he assented. "And I may yet
have won the Horace Prize."

Just then the kindly White, coming to express his sympathy, broke
into the study and exclaimed