. The next over
Childers strictly obeyed orders, blocking each ball. Then it was Frank's
turn again, and seven more went up on the board. They remained together
for just fifteen minutes, but during that time thirty-one had been added
to the score. Frank was caught at cover point, having added twenty-eight
since Thompson left him, the other three being credited to Childers. The
total was eighty-one--not a bad score in a school match.

"Well, you've redeemed yourself," Thompson said, as Frank walked to the
tent. "You played splendidly, old fellow, when you did come. If we do as
well next innings we are safe. They're not likely to average eighty. Now
get on your wicket-keeping gloves. Green and I will bowl."

The House scored rapidly at first, and fifty runs were put on with the
loss of four wickets. Then misfortune fell upon them, and the remaining
six fell for nineteen. The next innings Frank went in first, but was
caught when the score stood at fifteen. Thompson made fourteen, but the
rest scored but badly, and the whole were out for forty-eight.

The House had sixty-one to get to win. Six wickets had fallen for
fifty-one runs, when Thompson put Childers on to bowl. The change was a
fortunate one. Ruthven's stumps were lowered at the first ball. Handcock
was caught off the second. The spirits of the Town boys rose. There were
but two wickets more, and still ten runs to get to win. The House played
cautiously now, and overs were sent down without a run. Then off a ball
from Childers a four was scored, but the next ball leveled the outside
stump. Then by singles the score mounted up until a tremendous shout
from the House announced that the game was saved, sixty runs being
marked by the scorers. The next ball, the Town boys replied even more
lustily, for Childers ball removed the bails, and the game ended in
a tie. Both parties were equally well satisfied, and declared that a
better game had never been played at Dr. Parker's. As soon as the game
was over Frank, without waiting to join in the general talk over the
game, put on his coat and waistcoat and started at a run for home.

Frank Hargate was an only son. His mother lived in a tiny cottage on the
outskirts of Deal. She was a widow, her husband, Captain Hargate, having
died a year before. She had only her pension as an officer's widow,
a pittance that scarce sufficed even for the modest wants of herself,
Frank, and her little daughter Lucy, now six years old.

"I