fifteen for
Sharpe's house, to say nothing of pulling the day boys over the chalk in
the Tug of War, and generally bringing the Philosophers well before the
public notice. The secret of our intention had been well-kept till
within a week of the day. We had been taunted with shirking our sports,
with being "mugs" and "crocks" and "cripples," with exercising the
better part of valour, with being afraid of being laughed at, and so
forth. But we heard all with a conscious wink, and went on with our
practice round the corner. Then, a week from the day, we literally
pelted the list with our names.

Langrish put down for the High Jump, Cricket Ball, Broad Jump, and
Hurdles. Warminster set down his name under Dicky Brown's for the
Hundred Yards, and next to Griswold's for the Hurdles. Coxhead entered
for the Cricket Ball against the crack thrower in Selkirk's, and
Rackstraw and Walsh, noble pair of "paupers," put in for the Quarter-
mile, which I was to have run against the fleet-footed Flitwick.
Altogether it was a big order, and made the other houses look a little
blue, as we hoped it would.

The great day came at last--a perfect Sports day, with a light breeze
blowing, the track like elastic, the takes-off clean and sharp, and the
field crammed with visitors and friends. I had my work cut out for me
that day. It would have been far less exertion to run the Quarter-mile.
I was to be coat-minder, time-keeper, rubber-down, straight-tipper,
clapper-on-the-back, and bottle-holder to the Conversation Club at
large, a sort of mixture of parent, footman, and retriever dog, which,
flattering as it undoubtedly was to my sense of my own importance,
promised no little anxiety and exercise before the day was done.

As I strolled down somewhat early, charged with the pleasing commission
of "bagging nine seats in the middle of the front row of the stand and
seeing no one collared them," I met Redwood, fresh as a daisy, just
returning from a final inspection of the ground.

"Hullo, youngster, you're not running, I hear. What a pity!"

"It doesn't matter," said I. "Do you mind my not backing you for the
Mile?"

He laughed, and said he should have thought poorly of me if I had not
backed my own man.

"Is his hand all right now?" he asked.

"He says so," said I. "It's worth six yards to you, though."

"You think so, do you?" said he. "By the way, will you do a job for me?
My two young sisters awfully want to be on the g