"I am sorry we did not win; but, then, I don't think many of us dared to hope for that. At any rate, we were not disgraced, and I wish to take the opportunity of congratulating Meredith, not only on his superb innings this afternoon, but also on his keen and energetic captaincy throughout the term."
This was the signal for another demonstration. Everyone beat with their fists upon their table. It was a great scene.
The giants of our youth always appear to us much greater than those of any successive era. In future years Gordon was to see other captains of football, other captains of cricket, but with the exception of the tremendous Lovelace, Meredith towered above them all. He was at that moment the very great god of Gordon's soul. He seemed to be all that Gordon wished to be, brilliant and successful. Surely the fates had showered on him all their gifts.
On the last Monday there was a huge feed in the games study. Over twenty people were crowded in. Armour was there, Mansell, Gordon, Simonds, Foster, Ferguson, everyone except Clarke. There was no one who was not sorry to lose Meredith; his achievements so dazzled them that they could see nothing beyond them. They were proud to have such a man in the house. It was all sheer happiness.
Somehow on the last day the following notice appeared on the House board:—
In Memoriam
MALEVUS SCHOLARUM
In hadibus requiescat
Quod non sine ignominia militavit
No one knew who was responsible for it. Clarke looked at it for a second and turned away with a face that expressed no emotion.
By the Sixth Form green Simonds was shouting across to Meredith:
"Best of luck, old fellow, and mind you come down for the House supper...."
On the way down to the station Archie Fletcher burst out: