"Well, I don't know what we're all here for. Now I should think
you'd better go home to your mothers." He returned to his
background, and next term Mr. Pembroke was to take his place.

Such were the themes on which Mr. Pembroke discoursed to Rickie's
civil ear. He showed him the school, and the library, and the
subterranean hall where the day-boys might leave their coats and
caps, and where, on festal occasions, they supped. He showed him
Mr. Jackson's pretty house, and whispered, "Were it not for his
brilliant intellect, it would be a case of Ouickmarch!" He showed
him the racquet-court, happily completed, and the chapel,
unhappily still in need of funds. Rickie was impressed, but then
he was impressed by everything. Of course a House of day-boys
seemed a little shadowy after Agnes and Gerald, but he imparted
some reality even to that.

"The racquet-court," said Mr. Pembroke, "is most gratifying. We
never expected to manage it this year. But before the Easter
holidays every boy received a subscription card, and was given to
understand that he must collect thirty shillings. You will
scarcely believe me, but they nearly all responded. Next term
there was a dinner in the great school, and all who had
collected, not thirty shillings, but as much as a pound, were
invited to it--for naturally one was not precise for a few
shillings, the response being the really valuable thing.
Practically the whole school had to come."

"They must enjoy the court tremendously."

"Ah, it isn't used very much. Racquets, as I daresay you know, is