o be keen."

"We are, sir," said Psmith, with fervor.

"Excellent."

"On archaeology."

Mr. Downing--for it was no less a celebrity--started, as one who
perceives a loathly caterpillar in his salad.

"Archaeology!"

"We gave in our names to Mr. Outwood last night, sir. Archaeology is a
passion with us, sir. When we heard that there was a society here, we
went singing about the house."

"I call it an unnatural pursuit for boys," said Mr. Downing vehemently.
"I don't like it. I tell you I don't like it. It is not for me to
interfere with one of my colleagues on the staff, but I tell you frankly
that in my opinion it is an abominable waste of time for a boy. It gets
him into idle, loafing habits."

"I never loaf, sir," said Psmith.

"I was not alluding to you in particular. I was referring to the
principle of the thing. A boy ought to be playing cricket with other
boys, not wandering at large about the country, probably smoking and
going into low public houses."

"A very wild lot, sir, I fear, the Archaeological Society here," sighed
Psmith, shaking his head.

"If you choose to waste your time, I suppose I can't hinder you. But in
my opinion it is foolery, nothing else."

He stumped off.

"Now _he's_ cross," said Psmith, looking after him. "I'm afraid we're
getting ourselves disliked here."

"Good job, too."

"At any rate, Comrade Outwood loves us. Let's go on and see what sort of
a lunch that large-hearted fossil fancier is going to give us."

8

MIKE FINDS OCCUPATION

There was more than one moment during the first fortnight of term when
Mike found himself regretting the attitude he had imposed upon himself
with regard to Sedleighan cricket. He began to realize the eternal truth
of the proverb about half a loaf and no bread. In the first flush of his
resentment against his new surroundings he had refused to play cricket.
And now he positively ached for a game. Any sort of a game. An innings
for a Kindergarten _v_. the Second Eleven of a Home of Rest for
Centenarians would have soothed him. There were times, when the sun
shone, and he caught sight of white flannels on a green ground, and
heard the "plonk" of bat striking ball, when he felt like rushing to
Adair and shouting, "I _will_ be good. I was in the Wrykyn team three
years, and had an average of over fifty the last two seasons. Lead me to
the nearest net, and let me feel a bat in my hands again."

But every time he shrank from such