es, he felt hurt. "I looked after him
all right," said Horace, "the one term we were there together. So did
Fred for the next year. But it's rather rough on Fred and myself, who
were both something in the school at his age, to hear and see for
ourselves that Tony's nobody even in the house!"

Lettice slipped a sly hand under the great biceps of her eldest brother.

"But don't you see, old boy, that it makes it the worse for Tony that you
and Fred were what you were at school? They measure him by the standard
you two set up; it's natural enough, but it isn't fair."

"He needn't be a flyer at games," said Horace, duly softened by a little
flattery. "But he might be a tryer!"

"Wait till we get a little more breath into his body."

"A bag of oxygen wouldn't make him a cricketer."

"Yet he's so keen on cricket!"

"I wish he wasn't so keen; he thinks and talks more about it than Fred or
I did when we were in the eleven, yet he never looked like making a
player."

"I should say he thinks and talks more about most things; it's his nature,
just as it's Fred's and yours to be men of action."

"Well, I'm glad he's not allowed to cumber the crease this season," said
Horace, bowling his cigarette-end into the darkness with a distinct swerve
in the air. "To have him called our 'pocket edition,' on the
cricket-field of all places, is a bit too thick."

Lettice withdrew her sympathetic hand.

"He's as good a sportsman as either of you, at heart," she said warmly.
"And I hope he may make you see it before this doctor's done with him!"

"This doctor!" jeered Horace, quick to echo her change of tone as well.
"You mean the fool who wanted to send that kid round the world on his
own?"

"He's no fool, Horace, and you know nothing whatever about him."

"No; but I know something about our Tony! If he took the least care of
himself at home, there might be something to be said for letting him go;
but he's the most casual young hound I ever struck."

"I know he's casual."

Lettice made the admission with reluctance; next moment she was sorry her
sense of fairness had so misled her.

"Besides," said Horace, "he wouldn't be cured if he could. Think what
he'd miss!"

"Oh, if you're coming back to that, there's no more to be said."

And the girl halted at the lighted windows.

"But I do come back to it. Isn't he up in town at this moment under this
very doctor of yours?"

"He's not my doctor."

"But you first hea