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Updated: May 4, 2025
If you know one end of a bat from the other, you could get into some sort of a team. Were you at school anywhere before you came here?" "I was at Wrykyn." "Why on earth did you leave?" asked Stone. "Were you sacked?" "No. My father took me away." "Wrykyn?" said Robinson. "Are you any relation of the Jacksons there J.W. and the others?" "Brother." "What!" "Well, didn't you play at all there?"
The game ended with Wrykyn a goal ahead a goal and a try to a try. For the second time in one season the Ripton match had ended in a victory a thing it was very rarely in the habit of doing. The senior day-room at Seymour's rejoiced considerably that night. The air was dark with flying cushions, and darker still, occasionally, when the usual humorist turned the gas out.
At the end of the term, shortly before the Public Schools' Competitions at Aldershot, inter-house boxing cups were competed for at Wrykyn. It would be a dramatic act of reparation to the house if he could win the Light-Weight cup for it. His imagination, jumping wide gaps, did not admit the possibility of his not being good enough to win it.
I don't know if you remember him." "I suppose I ought to go and see Allardyce about these colours, now. Good-bye." There was running and passing on the Monday for every one in the three teams. Trevor and Clowes met Mr Seymour as they were returning. Mr Seymour was the football master at Wrykyn. "I see you've given Barry his second, Trevor." "Yes, sir."
They walked on toward the houses. "By the way, Adair," said Mike, as the latter started to turn in at Downing's, "I'll write to Strachan tonight about that match." "What's that?" asked Psmith. "Jackson's going to try and get Wrykyn to give us a game," said Adair. "They've got a vacant date. I hope the dickens they'll do it." "Oh, I should think they're certain to," said Mike. "Good night."
This year Wrykyn looked forward to the return match with a certain amount of apathy, due partly to the fact that the school was in a slack, unpatriotic state, and partly to the hammering the team had received in the previous term, when the Ripton centre three-quarters had run through and scored with monotonous regularity. "We're bound to get sat on," was the general verdict of the school.
It was only fair that Bob should be told, as the nearest of kin. And here was another grievance against fate. Bob was a person he did not particularly wish to see just then. For that morning he had posted up the list of the team to play for the school against Geddington, one of the four schools which Wrykyn met at cricket; and Bob's name did not appear on that list.
"I didn't want to play myself, but I wasn't going to do a rotten trick like getting other fellows away from the team." "No, I know." "It was rotten enough, really, not playing myself." "Oh, no. Beastly rough luck having to leave Wrykyn just when you were going to be captain, and come to a small school like this."
But ordinary standards would not apply here. On a good wicket Wrykyn that season were a two hundred and fifty to three hundred side. On a bad wicket well, they had met the Incogniti on a bad wicket, and their total with Wyatt playing and making top score had worked out at a hundred and seven.
He only knew that he had received a letter from home, in which his mother had assumed without evidence that he was leading Mike by the hand round the pitfalls of life at Wrykyn; and his conscience smote him. So he asked Mike to tea in his study one afternoon before going to the nets.
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