which belonged to Tommy and Billy Keep, Amos Whittle and Jacky Gale, the Red Handers appeared a futile organisation even in Abel’s eyes.  He felt, as greater than he have felt, that an ideal society should embrace one member only:  himself.  There were far too many brothers of the Red Hand, and before he reached home he even contemplated resignation.  He liked better the thought of playing his own hand, and keeping both its colour and its purpose secret from everybody else in the world.  His head was, for the moment, full of unsocial thoughts; but whether the impressions created by Mr. Baggs were likely to persist in a mind so young, looked doubtful.

He told his mother nothing, as usual.  Indeed, had she guessed half that went on in Abel’s brains, she might have sooner undertaken what presently was indicated, and removed herself and her son to a district far beyond their native village.

But the necessity did not exist in her thoughts, and when she recognised it, since the inspiration came from without, she was moved to resent rather than accept it.

CHAPTER V

AN ACCIDENT

There was a cricket luncheon at ‘The Tiger’ when Bridport played its last match for the season against Axminster.  The western township had won the first encounter, and Bridport much desired to cry quits over the second.

Raymond played on this occasion, and though he failed, the credit of Bridetown was worthily upheld by Nicholas Roberts, the lathe-worker.  He did not bowl as fast as of yore, but he bowled better, and since Axminster was out for one hundred and thirty in their first innings, while Bridport had made seventy for two wickets before luncheon, the issue promised well.

Job Legg still helped Richard Gurd at great moments as he was wont to do, for prosperity had not modified Job’s activity, or diminished his native goodwill.  Gurd carved, while Job looked after the bottles.  Arthur Waldron, who umpired for Bridport, sat beside Raymond at lunch and condoled with him, because the younger, who had gone in second wicket down, had played himself in very carefully before the interval.

“Now you’ll have to begin all over again,” said Waldron.  “I always say luncheon may be worth anything to the bowlers.  It rests them, but it puts the batsman’s eye out.”

“Seeing how short of practice you are this year, you were jolly steady, Ray,” declared Neddy Motyer, who sat on the other side of Ironsyde.  “You stopped some very hot ones.”

Neddy preserved his old interest in sport, but was now a responsible member of society.  He had married and joined his father, a harness-maker, in a prosperous business.

“I can’t time ’em, like I could.  That fast chap will get me, I expect.”

And Raymond proved a true prophet.  Indeed far worse happened than he anticipated.