"Oh, yes—don't I know? I remember my first drive here. Shall I ever forget it?" laughed Margaret. "I wondered whenever I was coming to the end; it seemed a tremendous distance in the dark. But never mind that, you said you had something to show us——"
"Yes, what is it?" broke in Ellice eagerly.
"This," answered Bob, drawing from his pocket a triangle design worked in silks within which a unicorn ramped, a Latin motto pressing its feet.
"Oh, Bob, your colours! How splendid! I am glad—and First Eleven too! Won't your father be proud of you?"
"Don't mention it to him, please," said the boy, colouring. "He thinks me such a rotter at work, and he may be vexed—and think I waste my time at games——"
A bright smile lit Margaret's face as she replied.
"You have no eyes, old boy, or you wouldn't say that. Didn't you ever notice your father reading the cricket news in the summer? Don't make any mistake, I'm nearly sure he's a sportsman, and don't you doubt for a moment but he'll appreciate your success. A boy doesn't get his first 'eleven' colours without some trouble, perseverance, and grit. Just show this to Mr. Medhurst, and see if I am not right?"
"Shall I go and tell him about it?" said Ellice, springing to her feet.
"No—no, child, it's your brother's news; let him have that pleasure."
At that moment there was a tread of footsteps outside the room, and then a knock, followed by the opening of the door.