At the door of the senior block Burgess, going out, met Bob coming in,hurrying, as he was rather late.

　　"Congratulate you, Bob," he said; and passed on.

　　Bob stared after him. As he stared, Trevor came out of the block.

　　"Congratulate you, Bob.""What's the matter now?""Haven't you seen?""Seen what?""Why the list. You've got your first.""My--what? you're rotting.""No, I'm not. Go and look."The thing seemed incredible. Had he dreamed that conversation betweenSpence and Burgess on the pavilion steps? Had he mixed up the names?

　　He was certain that he had heard Spence give his verdict for Mike, andBurgess agree with him.

　　Just then, Mike, feeling very ill, came down the steps. He caughtsight of Bob and was passing with a feeble grin, when something toldhim that this was one of those occasions on which one has to show aRed Indian fortitude and stifle one's private feelings.

　　"Congratulate you, Bob," he said awkwardly.

　　"Thanks awfully," said Bob, with equal awkwardness. Trevor moved on,delicately. This was no place for him. Bob's face was looking like astuffed frog's, which was Bob's way of trying to appear unconcernedand at his ease, while Mike seemed as if at any moment he might burstinto tears. Spectators are not wanted at these awkward interviews.

　　There was a short silence.

　　"Jolly glad you've got it," said Mike.

　　"I believe there's a mistake. I swear I heard Burgess say to Spence----""He changed his mind probably. No reason why he shouldn't.""Well, it's jolly rummy."Bob endeavoured to find consolation.

　　"Anyhow, you'll have three years in the first. You're a cert. for nextyear.""Hope so," said Mike, with such manifest lack of enthusiasm that Bobabandoned this line of argument. When one has missed one's colours,next year seems a very, very long way off.

　　They moved slowly through the cloisters, neither speaking, and up thestairs that led to the Great Hall. Each was gratefully conscious ofthe fact that prayers would be beginning in another minute, putting anend to an uncomfortable situation.

　　"Heard from home lately?" inquired Mike.

　　Bob snatched gladly at the subject.

　　"Got a letter from mother this morning. I showed you the last one,didn't I? I've only just had time to skim through this one, as thepost was late, and I only got it just as I was going to dash across toschool. Not much in it. Here it is, if you want to read it.""Thanks. It'll be something to do during Math.""Marjory wrote, too, for the first time in her life. Haven't had timeto look at it yet.""After you. Sure it isn't meant for me? She owes me a letter.""No, it's for me all right. I'll give it you in the interval."The arrival of the headmaster put an end to the conversation.

　　* * * * *By a quarter to eleven Mike had begun to grow reconciled to his fate.

　　The disappointment was still there, but it was lessened. These thingsare like kicks on the shin. A brief spell of agony, and then a dullpain of which we are not always conscious unless our attention isdirected to it, and which in time disappears altogether. When the bellrang for the interval that morning, Mike was, as it were, sitting upand taking nourishment.

　　He was doing this in a literal as well as in a figurative sense whenBob entered the school shop.

　　Bob appeared curiously agitated. He looked round, and, seeing Mike,pushed his way towards him through the crowd. Most of those presentcongratulated him as he passed; and Mike noticed, with some surprise,that, in place of the blushful grin which custom demands from the manwho is being congratulated on receipt of colours, there appeared onhis face a worried, even an irritated look. He seemed to havesomething on his mind.

　　"Hullo," said Mike amiably. "Got that letter?""Yes. I'll show it you outside.""Why not here?""Come on."Mike resented the tone, but followed. Evidently something had happenedto upset Bob seriously. As they went out on the gravel, somebodycongratulated Bob again, and again Bob hardly seemed to appreciateit.'

　　Bob led the way across the gravel and on to the first terrace. Whenthey had left the crowd behind, he stopped.

　　"What's up?" asked Mike.

　　"I want you to read----""Jackson!"They both turned. The headmaster was standing on the edge of thegravel.

　　Bob pushed the letter into Mike's hands.

　　"Read that," he said, and went up to the headmaster. Mike heard thewords "English Essay," and, seeing that the conversation wasapparently going to be one of some length, capped the headmaster andwalked off. He was just going to read the letter when the bell rang.

　　He put the missive in his pocket, and went to his form-room wonderingwhat Marjory could have found to say to Bob to touch him on the raw tosuch an extent. She was a breezy correspondent, with a style of herown, but usually she entertained rather than upset people. Nosuspicion of the actual contents of the letter crossed his mind.

　　He read it during school, under the desk; and ceased to wonder. Bobhad had cause to look worried. For the thousand and first time in hercareer of crime Marjory had been and done it! With a strong hand shehad shaken the cat out of the bag, and exhibited it plainly to allwhom it might concern.

　　There was a curious absence of construction a............