Dick was fortunately quite strong again. The specialist who had examined him before declared he had outgrown his temporary delicacy, and even gave him permission to play football when the season began, as well as to recommence his work at Stedburgh.
"I shall be sorry to lose my pupil," said Mr. Gascoyne. "The children will miss you here on Saturdays."
"I'll see them all every day in the bus," returned Dick cheerfully.
As the holidays wore on and it grew nearer and nearer to the time when she might expect to hear the result of the Senior Oxford, Gwen waxed impatient. The suspense was hard to bear, and seemed harder the longer she waited.
"I want to be put out of my misery," she declared. "If I've failed I'd like to know and have done with it."
"But you thought you'd done pretty well," said Winnie.
"How can I tell? Every day I think of something more that I left out in my papers, and it makes me less and less hopeful. I've borrowed one of Dad's big pocket handkerchiefs all ready to weep into! I warn you I shall cry gallons if I've not passed."
Miss Roscoe had arranged that a telegram should be sent to each of the candidates announcing the lists, and on the day when the news was likely to arrive the Gascoyne family haunted the rampart on the wall, watching eagerly for the advent of the telegraph boy. It was Basil who spied him first, and Giles who got to the gate quickest to meet him, and Beatrice who tore open the yellow envelope and read the message to the excited audience.
"'First-class Honours, and Geographical Society's Silver Medal!'"
Gwen nearly dropped on the grass.