“Wait and see,” said Lancaster, as great captains do.

And at that moment a first spot of rain fell.  Honion looked up apprehensively at a clouding sky.  “I thought so,” said he; and the weighty words were passed from lip to lip.

The multitude swelled as the Captain drew near the notice-boards.  Rumour stalked abroad and loudly proclaimed that the lot had fallen upon Doe.  That young cricketer was walking with me at the tail of the procession, very nervous but fairly confident.  As for me, my heart was fluttering, and there was an emptiness within.

“Come and tell me who it is,” I said to Doe.  “You’ll find me trembling like a frightened sparrow in the study.”

With that I left him, and, going to our study, stood gazing out of the window at a sudden shower of rain.  To nerve myself for any shock of disappointment I muttered monotonously some old words of Radley’s:  “Does it matter to a strong swimmer if the wave beats against him?  Does it matter—­does it matter—­” Soon a roar of many voices was heard in the distance.  The list was up.  I could not tell whether they were cheering in triumph or groaning in dismay.  Then someone ran along the corridor and burst in.  I remained looking out of the window lest the expression on my friend’s face should betray the secret which I longed but dreaded to hear.

“My dear old fellow,” said he, “it’s—­”

It was coming now.  What a long time he took to tell it.

“It’s you!”

“Good Lord!”

I had swung round on him.

“And I hope you take all the wickets,” said he, with a smile of generosity that he wished me to observe.

I couldn’t speak, but turned again to look out of the window.  The rain was beating heavily against the panes.  And Doe said nothing till, being in a chastened mood, he resumed: 

“I think you’ll always cut me out, Rupert, because you’re the solid stuff, while I’m all show.  You left me nowhere in Radley’s good books, and now in cricket—­”

“But you leave me nowhere in brain-work,” objected I, feeling that the handsome appreciation, which he had tossed to me, ought to be returned like a tennis ball.

“Oh, yes, of course, there is that,” he assented.  “And I may yet have won the Horace Prize.”

Just then the kindly White, coming to express his sympathy, broke into the study and exclaimed: 

“Well, we’ve boosted you out all right, Doe.”

“Why, had I been chosen at one time, then?” asked Doe, seizing upon this little sop to his pride.

“Of course, but look at the rain.  It’ll be a bowlers’ wicket, and the Skipper’s done a daring thing.  The school’s never known it, but Ray’s been our difficulty, ever since Radley started booming him.”

Doe brought his lips firmly together, and turned on me with a bright smile.

“Radley’s won this journey,” he said, “but let him know I was the first to congratulate you.”