Mike
Page 19
CHAPTER XVIII
BOB HAS NEWS TO IMPART
Wrykyn went down badly before the Incogs. It generally happens atleast once in a school cricket season that the team collapseshopelessly, for no apparent reason. Some schools do it in nearly everymatch, but Wrykyn so far had been particularly fortunate this year.They had only been beaten once, and that by a mere twenty odd runs ina hard-fought game. But on this particular day, against a notoverwhelmingly strong side, they failed miserably. The weather mayhave had something to do with it, for rain fell early in the morning,and the school, batting first on the drying wicket, found themselvesconsiderably puzzled by a slow left-hander. Morris and Berridge leftwith the score still short of ten, and after that the rout began. Bob,going in fourth wicket, made a dozen, and Mike kept his end up, andwas not out eleven; but nobody except Wyatt, who hit out at everythingand knocked up thirty before he was stumped, did anything todistinguish himself. The total was a hundred and seven, and theIncogniti, batting when the wicket was easier, doubled this.
The general opinion of the school after this match was that eitherMike or Bob would have to stand down from the team when it wasdefinitely filled up, for Neville-Smith, by showing up well with theball against the Incogniti when the others failed with the bat, madeit practically certain that he would get one of the two vacancies.
"If I do" he said to Wyatt, "there will be the biggest bust of moderntimes at my place. My pater is away for a holiday in Norway, and I'malone, bar the servants. And I can square them. Will you come?"
"Tea?"
"Tea!" said Neville-Smith scornfully.
"Well, what then?"
"Don't you ever have feeds in the dorms. after lights-out in thehouses?"
"Used to when I was a kid. Too old now. Have to look after mydigestion. I remember, three years ago, when Wain's won the footercup, we got up and fed at about two in the morning. All sorts ofluxuries. Sardines on sugar-biscuits. I've got the taste in my mouthstill. Do you remember Macpherson? Left a couple of years ago. Hisfood ran out, so he spread brown-boot polish on bread, and ate that.Got through a slice, too. Wonderful chap! But what about this thing ofyours? What time's it going to be?"
"Eleven suit you?"
"All right."
"How about getting out?"
"I'll do it as quickly as the team did to-day. I can't say more thanthat."
"You were all right."
"I'm an exceptional sort of chap."
"What about the Jacksons?"
"It's going to be a close thing. If Bob's fielding were to improvesuddenly, he would just do it. But young Mike's all over him as a bat.In a year or two that kid'll be a marvel. He's bound to get in nextyear, of course, so perhaps it would be better if Bob got the place asit's his last season. Still, one wants the best man, of course."
* * * * *
Mike avoided Bob as much as possible during this anxious period; andhe privately thought it rather tactless of the latter when, meetinghim one day outside Donaldson's, he insisted on his coming in andhaving some tea.
Mike shuffled uncomfortably as his brother filled the kettle and litthe Etna. It required more tact than he had at his disposal to carryoff a situation like this.
Bob, being older, was more at his ease. He got tea ready, makingdesultory conversation the while, as if there were no particularreason why either of them should feel uncomfortable in the other'spresence. When he had finished, he poured Mike out a cup, passed himthe bread, and sat down.
"Not seen much of each other lately, Mike, what?"
Mike murmured unintelligibly through a mouthful of bread-and-jam.
"It's no good pretending it isn't an awkward situation," continuedBob, "because it is. Beastly awkward."
"Awful rot the pater sending us to the same school."
"Oh, I don't know. We've all been at Wrykyn. Pity to spoil the record.It's your fault for being such a young Infant Prodigy, and mine for notbeing able to field like an ordinary human being."
"You get on much better in the deep."
"Bit better, yes. Liable at any moment to miss a sitter, though. Notthat it matters much really whether I do now."
Mike stared.
"What! Why?"
"That's what I wanted to see you about. Has Burgess said anything toyou yet?"
"No. Why? What about?"
"Well, I've a sort of idea our little race is over. I fancy you'vewon."
"I've not heard a word----"
"I have. I'll tell you what makes me think the thing's settled. Iwas in the pav. just now, in the First room, trying to find abatting-glove I'd mislaid. There was a copy of the _Wrykynian_lying on the mantelpiece, and I picked it up and started reading it.So there wasn't any noise to show anybody outside that there was someone in the room. And then I heard Burgess and Spence jawing on thesteps. They thought the place was empty, of course. I couldn't helphearing what they said. The pav.'s like a sounding-board. I heard everyword. Spence said, 'Well, it's about as difficult a problem as anycaptain of cricket at Wrykyn has ever had to tackle.' I had a sort ofidea that old Billy liked to boss things all on his own, but apparentlyhe does consult Spence sometimes. After all, he's cricket-master, andthat's what he's there for. Well, Billy said, 'I don't know what todo. What do you think, sir?' Spence said, 'Well, I'll give you myopinion, Burgess, but don't feel bound to act on it. I'm simply sayingwhat I think.' 'Yes, sir,' said old Bill, doing a big Young Disciplewith Wise Master act. '_I_ think M.,' said Spence. 'Decidedly M.He's a shade better than R. now, and in a year or two, of course,there'll be no comparison.'"
"Oh, rot," muttered Mike, wiping the sweat off his forehead. This wasone of the most harrowing interviews he had ever been through.
"Not at all. Billy agreed with him. 'That's just what I think, sir,'he said. 'It's rough on Bob, but still----' And then they walked downthe steps. I waited a bit to give them a good start, and then sheeredoff myself. And so home."
Mike looked at the floor, and said nothing.
There was nothing much to _be_ said.
"Well, what I wanted to see you about was this," resumed Bob. "I don'tpropose to kiss you or anything; but, on the other hand, don't let'sgo to the other extreme. I'm not saying that it isn't a bit of a brickjust missing my cap like this, but it would have been just as bad foryou if you'd been the one dropped. It's the fortune of war. I don'twant you to go about feeling that you've blighted my life, and so on,and dashing up side-streets to avoid me because you think the sight ofyou will be painful. As it isn't me, I'm jolly glad it's you; and Ishall cadge a seat in the pavilion from you when you're playing forEngland at the Oval. Congratulate you."
It was the custom at Wrykyn, when you congratulated a man on gettingcolours, to shake his hand. They shook hands.
"Thanks, awfully, Bob," said Mike. And after that there seemed to benothing much to talk about. So Mike edged out of the room, and toreacross to Wain's.
He was sorry for Bob, but he would not have been human (which hecertainly was) if the triumph of having won through at last into thefirst eleven had not dwarfed commiseration. It had been his oneambition, and now he had achieved it.
The annoying part of the thing was that he had nobody to talk to aboutit. Until the news was official he could not mention it to the commonherd. It wouldn't do. The only possible confidant was Wyatt. And Wyattwas at Bisley, shooting with the School Eight for the Ashburton. Forbull's-eyes as well as cats came within Wyatt's range as a marksman.Cricket took up too much of his time for him to be captain of theEight and the man chosen to shoot for the Spencer, as he wouldotherwise almost certainly have been; but even though short ofpractice he was well up in the team.
Until he returned, Mike could tell nobody. And by the time he returnedthe notice would probably be up in the Senior Block with the othercricket notices.
In this fermenting state Mike went into the house.
The list of the team to play for Wain's _v_. Seymour's on thefollowing Monday was on the board. As he passed i
t, a few wordsscrawled in pencil at the bottom caught his eye.
"All the above will turn out for house-fielding at 6.30 to-morrow morning.--W. F.-S."
"Oh, dash it," said Mike, "what rot! Why on earth can't he leave usalone!"
For getting up an hour before his customary time for rising was notamong Mike's favourite pastimes. Still, orders were orders, he felt.It would have to be done.