Psmith Series. P. G. Wodehouse
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“By Jove,” said Stone, “I’ve got an idea.; My word, what a rag!”
“What’s wrong now?” inquired Mike politely.
“Why, look here.; To-morrow’s Mid-term Service day.; It’s nowhere near the middle of the term, but they always have it in the fourth week.; There’s chapel at half-past nine till half-past ten.; Then the rest of the day’s a whole holiday.; There are always house matches.; We’re playing Downing’s.; Why don’t you play and let’s smash them?”
“By Jove, yes,” said Robinson.; “Why don’t you?; They’re always sticking on side because they’ve won the house cup three years running.; I say, do you bat or bowl?”
“Bat.; Why?”
Robinson rocked on the table.
“Why, old Downing fancies himself as a bowler.; You must play, and knock the cover off him.”
“Masters don’t play in house matches, surely?”
“This isn’t a real house match.; Only a friendly.; Downing always turns out on Mid-term Service day.; I say, do play.”
“Think of the rag.”
“But the team’s full,” said Mike.
“The list isn’t up yet.; We’ll nip across to Barnes’ study, and make him alter it.”
They dashed out of the room.; From down the passage Mike heard yells of “Barnes!” the closing of a door, and a murmur of excited conversation.; Then footsteps returning down the passage.
Barnes appeared, on his face the look of one who has seen visions.
“I say,” he said, “is it true?; Or is Stone rotting?; About Wrykyn, I mean.”
“Yes, I was in the team.”
Barnes was an enthusiastic cricketer.; He studied his Wisden, and he had an immense respect for Wrykyn cricket.
“Are you the M. Jackson, then, who had an average of fifty-one point nought three last year?”
“Yes.”
Barnes’s manner became like that of a curate talking to a bishop.
“I say,” he said, “then—er—will you play against Downing’s to-morrow?”
“Rather,” said Mike.; “Thanks awfully.; Have some tea?”
CHAPTER XL
THE MATCH WITH DOWNING’S
It is the curious instinct which prompts most people to rub a thing in that makes the lot of the average convert an unhappy one.; Only the very self-controlled can refrain from improving the occasion and scoring off the convert.; Most leap at the opportunity.
It was so in Mike’s case.; Mike was not a genuine convert, but to Mr. Downing he had the outward aspect of one.; When you have been impressing upon a non-cricketing boy for nearly a month that (a) the school is above all a keen school, (b) that all members of it should play cricket, and (c) that by not playing cricket he is ruining his chances in this world and imperilling them in the next; and when, quite unexpectedly, you come upon this boy dressed in cricket flannels, wearing cricket boots and carrying a cricket bag, it seems only natural to assume that you have converted him, that the seeds of your eloquence have fallen on fruitful soil and sprouted.
Mr. Downing assumed it.
He was walking to the field with Adair and another member of his team when he came upon Mike.
“What!” he cried.; “Our Jackson clad in suit of mail and armed for the fray!”
This was Mr. Downing’s No. 2 manner—the playful.
“This is indeed Saul among the prophets.; Why this sudden enthusiasm for a game which I understood that you despised?; Are our opponents so reduced?”
Psmith, who was with Mike, took charge of the affair with a languid grace which had maddened hundreds in its time, and which never failed to ruffle Mr. Downing.
“We are, above all, sir,” he said, “a keen house.; Drones are not welcomed by us.; We are essentially versatile.; Jackson, the archaeologist of yesterday, becomes the cricketer of to-day.; It is the right spirit, sir,” said Psmith earnestly.; “I like to see it.”
“Indeed, Smith?; You are not playing yourself, I notice.; Your enthusiasm has bounds.”
“In our house, sir, competition is fierce, and the Selection Committee unfortunately passed me over.”
* * * * *
There were a number of pitches dotted about over the field, for there was always a touch of the London Park about it on Mid-term Service day.; Adair, as captain of cricket, had naturally selected the best for his own match.; It was a good wicket, Mike saw.; As a matter of fact the wickets at Sedleigh were nearly always good.; Adair had infected the ground-man with some of his own keenness, with the result that that once-leisurely official now found himself sometimes, with a kind of mild surprise, working really hard.; At the beginning of the previous season Sedleigh had played a scratch team from a neighbouring town on a wicket which, except for the creases, was absolutely undistinguishable from the surrounding turf, and behind the pavilion after the match Adair had spoken certain home truths to the ground-man.; The latter’s reformation had dated from that moment.
* * * * *
Barnes, timidly jubilant, came up to Mike with the news that he had won the toss, and the request that Mike would go in first with him.
In stories of the “Not Really a Duffer” type, where the nervous new boy, who has been found crying in the boot-room over the photograph of his sister, contrives to get an innings in a game, nobody suspects that he is really a prodigy till he hits the Bully’s first ball out of the ground for six.
With Mike it was different.; There was no pitying smile on Adair’s face as he started his run preparatory to sending down the first ball.; Mike, on the cricket field, could not have looked anything but a cricketer if he had turned out in a tweed suit and hobnail boots.; Cricketer was written all over him—in his walk, in the way he took guard, in his stand at the wickets.; Adair started to bowl with the feeling that this was somebody who had more than a little knowledge of how to deal with good bowling and punish bad.
Mike started cautiously.; He was more than usually anxious to make runs to-day, and he meant to take no risks till he could afford to do so.; He had seen Adair bowl at the nets, and he knew that he was good.
The first over was a maiden, six dangerous balls beautifully played.; The fieldsmen changed over.
The general interest had now settled on the match between Outwood’s and Downing’s.; The fact in Mike’s case had gone round the field, and, as several of the other games had not yet begun, quite a large crowd had collected near the pavilion to watch.; Mike’s masterly treatment of the opening over had impressed the spectators, and there was a popular desire to see how he would deal with Mr. Downing’s slows.; It was generally anticipated that he would do something special with them.
Off the first ball of the master’s over a leg-bye was run.
Mike took guard.
Mr. Downing was a bowler with a style of his own.; He took two short steps, two long steps, gave a jump, took three more short steps, and ended with a combination of step and jump, during which the ball emerged from behind his back and started on its slow career to the wicket.; The whole business had some