put up here."

"Well, and who changed the time of the Speeches, and put the idea of
gymnastic poles into the heads of their worships the sixth form?" said
the master.

"The Doctor, I suppose," said Tom. "I never thought of that."

"Of course you didn't," said the master, "or else, fag as you were, you
would have shouted with the whole school against putting down old
customs. And that's the way that all the Doctor's reforms have been
carried out when he has been left to himself--quietly and naturally,
putting a good thing in the place of a bad, and letting the bad die
out; no wavering and no hurry--the best thing that could be done for the
time being, and patience for the rest."

"Just Tom's own way," chimed in Arthur, nudging Tom with his elbow,
"driving a nail where it will go;" to which allusion Tom answered by a
sly kick.

"Exactly so," said the master, innocent of the allusion and bye-play.

Meantime Jack Raggles, with his sleeves tucked up above his great brown
elbows, scorning pads and gloves, has presented himself at the wicket;
and having run one for a forward drive of Johnson's, is about to receive
his first ball. There are only twenty-four runs to make, and four
wickets to go down; a winning match if they play decently steady. The
ball is a very swift one, and rises fast, catching Jack on the outside
of the thigh, and bounding away as if from india-rubber, while they run
two for a leg-bye amidst great applause, and shouts from Jack's many
admirers. The next ball is a beautifully pitched ball for the outer
stump, which the reckless and unfeeling Jack catches hold of, and hits
right round to leg for five, while the applause becomes deafening: only
seventeen runs to get with four wickets--the game is all but ours!

It is "over" now, and Jack walks swaggering about his wicket, with the
bat over his shoulder, while Mr. Aislabie holds a short parley with his
men. Then the cover-point hitter, that cunning man, goes on to bowl slow
twisters. Jack waves his hand triumphantly towards the tent, as much as
to say, "See if I don't finish it all off now in three hits."

Alas, my son Jack! the enemy is too old for thee. The first ball of the
over Jack steps out and meets, swiping with all his force. If he had
only allowed for the twist! but he hasn't, and so the ball goes spinning
up straight into the air, as if it would never come down again. Away
runs Jack, shouting and trusting to the chapter of accidents, but th