n Martin's thoughts were centred on his
preparatory school, Daniel had laboured at the verbs in [Greek: -_mi_]
and been the finest athlete in the land. At Elfrey, Daniel had
suffered an eclipse, as always happened when Martin had anything very
much to think about: at Berney's he had either been tired enough to
fall asleep immediately or else he had had something on his mind,
to-morrow's repetition, an order of Leopard's, or a game of football.
And, besides, Martin had reflected that such methods of amusement as
the 'Daniel game' were childish and quite incompatible with the dignity
of a Public School boy. But at The Steading the temptation to restore
Daniel to life became very urgent and Martin at length swallowed his
scruples. While he lay in his bed or wandered in the woods he would
become Daniel once more, a Daniel at Elfrey, a prodigious Daniel, who
surpassed all records in popularity, played stand-off half for the
school at the age of fourteen, endured the most tremendous swipings
without a moan or a movement, and was irresistible at every game he
took up.

Mrs Berrisford was somewhat distressed by Martin's solitary walks and
quiet ways and made several efforts to draw him from his shell. But
she made the mistake of trying to base the conversation on his
experiences at school and the result was not encouraging.

"And who is your form master?" she began one evening.

"Chap called Vickers."

"Is he nice?"

"Oh, he's all right. Bit of a terror sometimes."

"Does he go for you?"

"Not for me very much."

A pause. "And what's Mr Berney like? Do you get on with him?"

"Oh, he's all right."

"Do you like the house?"

"Yes; it's quite all right."

"Have you any special friends?"

"No one in particular. I like most of the chaps."

"How do you get on with football?"

"Fairly well."

And then she gave it up. Without being openly rude Martin had made it
plain that he was not to be bolted from his earth of modified optimism.

When Martin had gone to bed John Berrisford pointed out to his wife
that she had taken the wrong line. "Martin is just old enough and wise
enough to be thoroughly self-conscious," he said. "He resents
questions about school because he thinks you're regarding him as a
schoolboy and playing down to him. Talk to him about Botticelli or
Free Trade or Beerbohm Tree."

"What nonsense," said Mrs Berrisford. "He's only fourteen. It's just
shyness."

But on the following mor