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Updated: June 9, 2025
The housekeeper packed up their things, and next morning early they started by the coach for London. Mr. Scudamore, the father of the young Etonians, was a banker. He was the elder of two brothers, and had inherited his father's business, while his brother had gone into the army.
"The Etonians are the gentlemen eh? Well, Fluff, after their performance at Lord's last year, you couldn't expect us to admit that they're players." The Duffer chuckled. "I say, Caterpillar, that was a good 'un." "Not mine," said the Caterpillar, solemnly, "My governor's, you know."
And twelve minutes to play! Scaife puts on the Duffer again. The lips of the Rev. Sep are seen to move inaudibly. Is he praying, or cursing, because three singles are scored off his son's first three balls? "Well bowled well bowled!" A ball of fair length, easy enough to play under all ordinary circumstances, but a "teaser" when tremendous issues are at stake, has defeated one of the Etonians.
The King's College lads, who, indeed called themselves 'men, were of a lower social rank than the Etonians, and, as Fitzjames adds, unmistakably inferior in physique. Boys who had the Strand as the only substitute for the playing-fields were hardly likely to show much physical prowess. But they had qualities more important to him.
But when she spoke and smiled, there was so much spirit and vivacity in the countenance, so much fascination in the smile, that all which might before have marred the effect of her beauty strangely and suddenly disappeared. "Who is that very handsome woman?" asked Randal. "An Italian, a Marchesa something," said one of the Etonians.
The boys sat round upon the grass; behind them were the carriages and coaches you could drive on to the ground then! and here and there, only here and there, a tent or a small stand. Consule Planco the parson loves a Latin tag the match was an immense picnic for Harrovians and Etonians. And, my word, you ought to have heard the chaff when an unlucky fielder put the ball on the floor.
He was talking with some old Etonians who had recognized him, when there entered a lady of very remarkable appearance, and a murmur passed through the room as she appeared. She might be three or four and twenty.
John was standing on the top of the coach, very disconsolate, when he saw Desmond beckoning to him from below. The expression on Caesar's face puzzled him. "How can you pal up with those Etonians?" whispered Caesar, after John had descended. "Every Eton face I see now I want to hit." Then he added, with a smile and a chuckle, "I say, there's going to be a ruction in front of the Pavvy. Come on."
Fine fellows those were in the Modern Class at Haverton House, stalwart heroes who made up the cricket and football teams and strode about the playing fields of Haverton House with as keen a sense of their own importance as Etonians of comparable status in their playing fields not more than two miles away.
This luncheon was eaten on the top of the duke's coach, and it happened that the next coach but one belonged to Scaife's father. John could just see Scaife's handsome head, and Caesar sitting beside him. The boys nodded to each other, and the Etonians asked questions. At the name of Scaife, however, the young Kinlochs curled contemptuous lips.
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