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Updated: July 4, 2025
By Heaven! he has stopped it he's snapped it up! But if he despatches it to the wicket-keeper, it will arrive too late. The other Etonian is already within a couple of yards of the crease. Scaife does not hesitate. He aims at the bowler's wicket towards which the burly one is running as fast as legs a thought too short can carry him. He aims and shies instantaneously. He shatters the wicket.
So John opened his mouth and sang. The first verse of the lyric went haltingly. Scaife growled to Desmond, "He is going to make an ass of himself." And Desmond, meeting Scaife's eyes, half thought that the speaker wished that John would fail that he grudged him a triumph.
But to mere outsiders, like myself, a beast of beasts; ay, the very king of beasts, is Dirty Dick." And then oh, horrors! the door of No. 15 opened, and Rutford appeared, followed by a seemingly young and very fashionably dressed lady. The boys jumped to their feet. All, except Scaife, looked preternaturally solemn. The house-master nodded carelessly.
"Well, my dear Scaife, how are you? We've been a little anxious, all of us, but, I ventured to predict, without cause. Tell us, my poor boy, how do you feel?" Scaife opened his eyes. Then he groaned dismally. Rutford was standing to the right of the chair and footbath. The fifth were facing Scaife. He met their anxious, admonishing glances, unable to interpret them.
But this he could not plead as an excuse to his friend; and Scaife had known that, and had used his knowledge with fiendish success. John lowered his eyes and walked from the room. When he met Desmond again, nothing was said on either side. John told himself that he would speak, if Desmond spoke first. But evidently Desmond had determined already the nature of their future relations.
"Not my own," said the Caterpillar; adding, as usual, "My governor's, you know." "Warde hasn't a soft job ahead of him," said Desmond. "Soft or hard, he'll handle it his own way." Desmond went out, wondering what had become of Scaife. Scaife was in his room, talking to Lovell senior, who had spent a fortnight with Scaife's people In Scotland, fishing and grousing.
And with those generous words, with that warm clasp of the hand, Scaife had seen the barrier which he had built between the friends dissolve like ice in the dog-days. The attention of the Manor was now fixed upon the house-matches. It seemed probable that with four members of the School Eleven in the team, the ancient house must prove invincible.
"Caesar tells me that he is going up to London to-night." "Oh, he told you that, did he?" "Yes; you wished him to tell me?" "Perhaps." Scaife laughed louder. "You want to prove to me," said John, slowly, "that you are the stronger?" "Perhaps." Scaife laughed. "Well, if I surrender, if I admit that you are the stronger, that you have defeated me, won't that be enough?" "Eh? I don't quite take you."
Having launched this hypothetical thunderbolt, she asked Alicia Derosne to give her another cup of tea. Alicia poured out the tea, handed it to her sister-in-law, and asked, "But, Mary, what is there so dreadful about Mr. Medland?" "Everything," said Lady Eynesford. "Still," suggested Miss Scaife, "if the creatures are bent on having him "
The sun shines upon their pale-blue caps and sashes, and upon faces slightly pale also, but not yet blue. For Eton has a strong batting team, and Scaife and Desmond have proved that it is a batsman's wicket. And now the connoisseurs, the really great players, settle themselves down comfortably to watch Scaife field.
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