to go into the big schoolroom and
hear Claremont read _Lycidas_ and parts of _Comus_.

Claremont read remarkably well, and Gordon, in an atmosphere of genial
tolerance and good humour, was able to get a clearer insight into the
real soul of the pedant of the Lower Fifth. For, shorn of his trappings,
Claremont was "a dear old fellow." Among books he had found the lasting
friendship and consolation that among his colleagues he had sought in
vain. And as he read _Comus_, in many ways the most truly poetical poem
in the English language, Gordon realised how sensitively Claremont's
heart was wrought upon by every breath of beauty.

The afternoon they had to themselves. A net was put up on the field, and
for an hour or so they beat about, regardless of science and footwork. A
relaxation was a good thing now and again. Then they went back to the
studies, and in the absence of its owner laid hold of the games study.
They had the run of it now, and, with an enormous basket of strawberries
before them, played tunes on the gramophone and roared the chorus. As
the evening fell, and the lights began to wake, Gordon and Archie stole
down to the fried fish shop, strictly out of bounds, and returned with
an unsavoury, but none the less palatable, parcel of fried fish and
chips.

It was a glorious day; they enjoyed all Fernhurst's privileges with its
restrictions removed, and when the notes of _Land of Hope and Glory_
proclaimed that the corps was marching up Cheap Street, they considered
the return to realities to be almost an intrusion on their isolated
peace.

In the last week of the term the Colts played Downside, and Gordon was
still young enough to play for them. "The Bull" went with them, and
could not have been kinder. He walked round the ground with Gordon in
the interval, as if there had been never any cause of quarrel between
them at all. They talked of books as well as cricket; and though "the
Bull's" gods were not Gordon's, there was real sympathy between them for
an hour. On the way back in the train, Gordon wondered whether, after
all, he had not been right at the beginning, when he promised to curb
his personality, and merge it into "the Bull's." What good was there in
going his own way, in fighting for what he thought right? Buller always
had had his own way, and things had gone on all right. Why should he try
and alter things? Having realised "the Bull's" faults, should he not
make allowance for them, seeing that