"We must stick together, you and I," entreated Desmond.
"No," said John.
"As you please," Cæsar replied coldly.
A detestable week followed. John tackled his Shakespeare alone, working doggedly. Then, quite suddenly, the giant gripped him. He had always possessed a remarkable memory, and as a child he had learnt by heart many passages out of the plays (a fact well known to the crafty Warde); but these he had swallowed without digesting them. Now he became keen, the keener because he met with violent opposition from the Caterpillar and the Duffer, who were of opinion that Shakespeare was a "back number."
John won the prize, and on the following Speech Day saw his mother's face radiant with pride and happiness, as he received the Medal from the Head Master's hands.
"You look as pleased as if I'd got my Flannels," said John.
"Surely this Medal is a greater thing?"
"Oh, mum, you don't know much about boys."
"Perhaps not, but," her eyes twinkled, "I know something about Shakespeare, and he's a friend that will stand by you when cricketing days are over."
"If you're pleased, so am I," said John.