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.

Next day he asked Fluff to walk with him, but Fluff was walking with
some one else. The Duffer had letters to write, and stigmatized walking
as a beastly grind. John determined to walk by himself; but as he was
leaving the Manor he met the Caterpillar, a tremendous buck, arrayed in
his best--patent-leather boots, white waistcoat, a flower in his
buttonhole.

"Where are you off to, Jonathan?"

"To Preston. You'd better come, Caterpillar."

"I never walk far in these boots. Peal made 'em."

"Change 'em, can't you?"

"Right."

While he was absent, John seriously considered the propriety of taking
Egerton into his confidence. Sincerely attached to Egerton, and valuing
his advice, he knew, none the less, that the Caterpillar looked a