"This is indeed Saul among the prophets. Why this sudden enthusiasm for
a game which I understood that you despised? Are our opponents
so reduced?"

Psmith, who was with Mike, took charge of the affair with a languid
grace which had maddened hundreds in its time, and which never failed to
ruffle Mr. Downing.

"We are, above all, sir," he said, "a keen house. Drones are not
welcomed by us. We are essentially versatile. Jackson, the archaeologist
of yesterday, becomes the cricketer of today. It is the right spirit,
sir," said Psmith earnestly. "I like to see it."

"Indeed, Smith? You are not playing yourself, I notice. Your enthusiasm
has bounds."

"In our house, sir, competition is fierce, and the Selection Committee
unfortunately passed me over."

* * * * *

There were a number of pitches dotted about over the field, for there
was always a touch of the London Park about it on Mid-Term Service Day.
Adair, as captain of cricket, had naturally selected the best for his
own match. It was a good wicket, Mike saw. As a matter of fact the
wickets at Sedleigh were nearly always good. Adair had infected the
groundsman with some of his own keenness, with the result that that
once-leisurely official now found himself sometimes, with a kind of mild
surprise, working really hard. At the beginning of the previous season
Sedleigh had played a scratch team from a neighboring town on a wicket