"Now, boys," said their master, "I hope your work will show we have made a wise selection. Remember, once your names are given in, we cannot make any alteration." Then turning to the inspector, he added, "These are our candidates, sir."
"Ah," exclaimed that gentleman genially, "I have made the acquaintance of two of them, Mr. Holmore, and I can assure you they are tremendous fellows—at a sprint.—Well, my lads, one thing is certain: this scholarship won't be gained without plenty of hard work. The chosen knights are buckling on their armour in every quarter of the town, and the tournament will be a keen one."
Fortunately, school closed at noon for the day, as the boys were too excited to pay much attention to lessons. They were well satisfied with their master's selection, and many of them at once put down the scholarship as a "good thing" for Jim Hartland.
Some thought Braithwaite might get it, others pinned their faith to Dick Boden, "if the little beggar would work;" and when one wretched urchin hinted that the St. Paul's boys had won a lot of prizes lately, he was promptly "sat on."
"It's bound to come to the Deanery," declared Tompkins, who was himself still struggling with the mysteries of long division. "The only question is, Who's to get it?"
Then the talk turned to the great cricket match fixed for the next day, which was to decide the possession of the challenge shield for the following year. St. Paul's held it, but the Deanery intended having a good try to wrest it from their near and dear rivals.
"Hartland's in fine form," said one. "You should have seen him hit at practice yesterday. If he comes off we ought to stand a chance."
"And the Angel's bowling a treat! I don't think the 'Magpies'" (as the St. Paul's boys were called) "will do much with his curly ones."
"He bowled the inspector out before school, didn't he?"
They were still laughing at the recollection of Dick's mishap when Simpson, the reserve man of the team, came up, trying, but with poor success, to look sorry.