cricket. And just at the moment cricket happened to be the pivot of his
life.

'My father,' Psmith had confided to Mike, meeting him at the station in
the family motor on the Monday, 'is a man of vast but volatile brain.
He has not that calm, dispassionate outlook on life which marks your
true philosopher, such as myself. I--'

'I say,' interrupted Mike, eyeing Psmith's movements with apprehension,
'you aren't going to drive, are you?'

'Who else? As I was saying, I am like some contented spectator of a
Pageant. My pater wants to jump in and stage-manage. He is a man of
hobbies. He never has more than one at a time, and he never has that
long. But while he has it, it's all there. When I left the house this
morning he was all for cricket. But by the time we get to the ground he
may have chucked cricket and taken up the Territorial Army. Don't be
surprised if you find the wicket being dug up into trenches, when we
arrive, and the pro. moving in echelon towards the pavilion. No,' he
added, as the car turned into the drive, and they caught a glimpse of
white flannels and blazers in the distance, and heard the sound of bat
meeting ball, 'cricket seems still to be topping the bill. Come along,
and I'll show you your room. It's next to mine, so that, if brooding on
Life in the still hours of the night, I hit on any great truth, I shall
pop in and discuss it with you.'

While Mike was changing, Psmith sat on his bed, and continued to
discourse.

'I suppose you're going to the 'Varsity?' he said.