"Well hit, by George!" remarked Uncle John, as Trevor, who had gone in first wicket for the second eleven, swept a half-volley to leg round to the bank where they were sitting.
"That's Trevor," said Mike. "Chap in Donaldson's. The fellow at the other end is Wilkins. He's in the School House. They look as if they were getting set. By Jove," he said enviously, "pretty good fun batting on a day like this."
Uncle John detected the envious note.
"I suppose you would have been playing here but for your wrist?"
"No, I was playing for the first."
"For the first? For the school! My word, Mike, I didn't know that. No wonder you're feeling badly treated. Of course, I remember your father saying you had played once for the school, and done well; but I thought that was only as a substitute. I didn't know you were a regular member of the team. What bad luck. Will you get another chance?"
"Depends on Bob."
"Has Bob got your place?"
Mike nodded.
"If he does well to-day, they'll probably keep him in."
"Isn't there room for both of you?"
"Such a lot of old colours. There are only three vacancies, and Henfrey got one of those a week ago. I expect they'll give one of the other two to a bowler, Neville-Smith, I should think, if he does well against Geddington. Then there'll be only the last place left."
"Rather awkward, that."
"Still, it's Bob's last year. I've got plenty of time. But I wish I could get in this year."
After they had watched the match for an hour, Uncle John's restless nature asserted itself.
"Suppose we go for a pull on the river now?" he suggested.
They got up.
