, and made one which sent
our lads nearly frantic.

"Three only to win," and there seemed to be not a doubt of our success
now,--for it was "our" success, though I had had nothing to do with the
result.

And now Burr major had a splendid chance, but he was too nervous to take
it, and the over proved blank, as did the next. But in the one which
followed, the fresh boy sent a ball just by mid-wicket, a run was
stolen, and I, too, grew so excited that I forgot my headache and rose
to my knees.

It was a fresh over, a change had been made in the bowling, and the
first ball was delivered and stopped.

The second ball went rushing by the wicket, but it was not wide; and now
the third ball was bowled. It seemed to be an easy one, and in the
midst of the most profound excitement, Burr major gathered himself
together for a big hit, struck out, and--the ball went flying out of the
field?

No; Burr major just missed it, the off-bail was bowled clean and fell a
dozen yards away.

We were beaten.

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE.

There was a tremendous burst of cheering and a rush for the tent by the
boys who had left their jackets within, and among them Burr major,
disappointed, but at the same time justly proud of the splendid score he
had made, walked up to the door, disappeared amongst plenty of clapping,
and soon after came out again in his jacket and vest.

We had all clustered up round about the players, and two masters shook
hands with the champion, who directly after caught sight of me.

"Hallo! How's the head?" he cried.

"Getting better now."

"I saw you watching the match," he continued. "Nice time you had of it
lying about under that tree, while we fellows did all the work."

"I should have liked to be in it," I said rather drearily; "but I really
was very bad."

His attention was called off soon after, and then there was a summons to
the tent for the festive high tea, which was to come off directly, as
the Hastings boys had a long drive back.

I was much better, but the thought of food in that crowded tent was
nauseating, and, watching my opportunity, I slipped away, seeing Tom
Mercer looking about as if in search of me before going into the tent.

"I know what I'll do," I thought. "I'll walk gently down along the lane
to Bob Hopley's place, and ask Polly to make me a cup of tea and cut me
some bread and butter."

The plan was simple enough, and I strolled out and along the road, and
then entered