"Good Lord!"
I had swung round on him.
"And I hope you take all the wickets," said he, with a smile of generosity that he wished me to observe.
I couldn't speak, but turned again to look out of the window. The rain was beating heavily against the panes. And Doe said nothing till, being in a chastened mood, he resumed:
"I think you'll always cut me out, Rupert, because you're the solid stuff, while I'm all show. You left me nowhere in Radley's good books, and now in cricket—"
"But you leave me nowhere in brain-work," objected I, feeling that the handsome appreciation, which he had tossed to me, ought to be returned like a tennis ball.
"Oh, yes, of course, there is that," he assented. "And I may yet have won the Horace Prize."
Just then the kindly White, coming to express his sympathy, broke into the study and exclaimed:
"Well, we've boosted you out all right, Doe."
"Why, had I been chosen at one time, then?" asked Doe, seizing upon this little sop to his pride.