state Mike went into the house.

The list of the team to play for Wain's _v_. Seymour's on the
following Monday was on the board. As he passed it, a few words
scrawled in pencil at the bottom caught his eye.

"All the above will turn out for house-fielding at 6.30 to-morrow
morning.--W. F.-S."

"Oh, dash it," said Mike, "what rot! Why on earth can't he leave us
alone!"

For getting up an hour before his customary time for rising was not
among Mike's favourite pastimes. Still, orders were orders, he felt.
It would have to be done.

CHAPTER XIX

MIKE GOES TO SLEEP AGAIN

Mike was a stout supporter of the view that sleep in large quantities
is good for one. He belonged to the school of thought which holds that
a man becomes plain and pasty if deprived of his full spell in bed. He
aimed at the peach-bloom complexion.

To be routed out of bed a clear hour before the proper time, even on a
summer morning, was not, therefore, a prospect that appealed to him.

When he woke it seemed even less attractive than it had done when
he went to sleep. He had banged his head on the pillow six times
over-night, and this silent alarm proved effective, as it always
does. Reaching out a hand for his watch, he found that it was five
minutes past six.

This was to the good. He could manage another quarter of an hour
between the sheets. It would only take him ten minutes to wash and get
into his flannels.

He took his quarter of an hour, and a little more. He woke from a sort
of doze to find that it was twenty-five past.

Man's inability to get out of bed in the morning is a curious thing.
One may reason with oneself clearly and forcibly without the slightest
effect. One knows that delay means inconvenience. Perhaps it may spoil
one's whole day. And one also knows that a single resolute heave will
do the trick. But logic is of no use. One simply lies there.

Mike thought he would take another minute.

And during that minute there floated into his mind the question, Who
_was_ Firby-Smith? That was the point. Who _was_ he, after all?

This started quite a new train of thought. Previously Mike had firmly
intended to get up--some time. Now he began to waver.

The more he considered the Gazeka's insignificance and futility and
his own magnificence, the more outrageous did it seem that he should
be dragged out of bed to please Firby-Smith's vapid mind. Here was he,
about to receive his first eleven colours on this v