he had
"come to stay," and then proceeded to hit three twos in his first
"over."

This dashing commencement was but the prelude to a brilliant bit of
rapid scoring: twos and threes followed each other in quick succession.
Allingford shouted, the crowd roared, while "The Happy Family"
gambolled about on one another's chests and stomachs, and squealed with
delight. Like the poet's brook, Oaks might have exclaimed, "Men may
come, and men may go, but I go on for ever." When Wraxby changed the
bowling, he welcomed the new-comer by sending the first ball into the
next field, and continued to cut and drive in such a gallant manner that
even Bibbs, standing up to get the full use of his lungs, shouted, "Go
'long!" and "Well hit!" until his face was the colour of a poppy.

"I say!" exclaimed Carton, as the eighth wicket fell, "I wish one of
these next two chaps would hang on a bit, and give Oaks a chance of
getting a few more; it must be nearly eighty up."

"Thurston, you're in!" came from the scorer.

The boy named was sitting by himself, on the end of a form close to the
telegraph, moodily scraping up the ground with the spikes of his
cricket-shoes. He knew that most of his comrades in the eleven would
give him the cold shoulder, and so did not mingle with them inside the
pavilion. He rose, and prepared to obey the summons.

"Let's give him a cheer," said "Rats;" "he may do something.--Go it,
Thurston! Sit tight, and keep the pot boiling!"

The big fellow turned his head in the direction of "The Happy Family,"
and with something of the old good-humoured smile, which had seldom of
late been seen upon his face, answered: "All right, my boy, you see if I
don't."

"Jolly fellow old Thirsty," remarked "Rats," swelling with pride at this
friendly recognition. "He can play when he likes, but he hasn't
troubled to practise much of late. He used always--Phew! my eye, what
an awful crack!"

A terrifically swift ball from Austin had risen suddenly from the hard
ground. Thurston had no time to avoid it, but turning away his face,
received the blow on the back of his head. He dropped his bat,
staggered away from the wicket, and fell forward on his knees.

To suffer for the cause of the school in a cricket or football match was
a thing which, like charity, "covered a multitude of sins." Allingford
hurried out of the pavilion and ran towards the pitch, while Partridge
and a few more of the "Wraxby men gathered round their