, seized Jim's and Gus's
effects. Todd's modest _douceur_, however, took off the rough edge of
his displeasure.
After tea, Cotton and Todd strolled about, and finally came to anchor
behind the nets, where some of the Sixth were already at practice.
"Phil Bourne's good for a hundred at Lord's," said Jim, critically,
watching Phil's clean, crisp cutting with interest.
"There's Acton out, too."
"Raw," said Jim. "Biffen's beauty has never been taught to hold his bat,
that is evident. Footer is more his line, I take it."
"Are you going to have a try for the eleven, Jim, this year?"
"I'll see how things shape. If Phil Bourne gives me the hint that I have
a chance, I'll take it, of course."
"Will he give Acton the hint, think you?"
"I shouldn't say so," said Jim, as Acton's stumps waltzed out of the
ground for the fourth time. "He can't play slows for toffee."
"Rum affair about the footer cap," said Gus.
"Rather so. But I believe Phil Bourne is as straight as a die. I'm not
so sure of Acton, though. I fancy there's something to be explained
about the cap. By the way, Gus, are you going to loaf about this term as
usual? Taylor's house side really does want bigger fellows than it's
got."
"No!" said Gus. "I'm no good at cricket, nor croquet, nor any other
game; nor do I really care a song about them. All the same, I'm not
going to loaf."
"What is the idea?" said Jim, curiously.
"I'm going to have a shot for the history medal, and I mean to crawl up
into the first three in the Fifth.
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