The Willoughby Captains

It was a melancholy spectacle, and far more calculated to excite pity than amusement. Bloomfield chafed and growled for some time, and then, unable to stand it any longer, went off in disgust, leaving the young reprobates to their fate.

Scarcely less remarkable than the collapse of Parrett’s was the steadiness of Welch’s in the field. Although they had little to do, they did what there was to do neatly and well, and, unlike many junior elevens, did it quietly. The junior matches at Willoughby had usually been more famous for noise than cricket, but on this occasion the order of things was reversed, and Riddell, as he looked on and heard the compliments from all quarters bestowed on his young heroes, might be excused if he felt rewarded for all the labour and patience of the past month.

It offended him not at all to hear this good result attributed generally to Mr Parrett’s instructions. He knew it was true. Mr Parrett himself took care to disclaim any but a small amount of merit in the matter.

“It’s a wonder to me,” said he to Fairbairn, in the hearing of a good many seniors, who were wont to treat anything he had to say on athletic matters as authoritative—“it’s a wonder to me how Riddell, who is only a moderate player himself, has turned out such a first-rate eleven. He’s about the best cricket coach we have had, and I have seen several in my time. He has worked on their enthusiasm without stint, and next best to that, he has not so much hammered into them what they ought to do, as he has hammered out of them what they ought not to do. Three fellows out of five never think of that.”

“I’m sure they don’t,” said Fairbairn.

“See how steady they were all the i

And off strolled the honest Mr Parrett, bat in hand, to umpire, leaving his hearers not a little impressed with the force of his views on the first principles of cricket.

The master’s prophecy was correct. The Welchers, notwithstanding the fact that they had only twenty-five runs to get to equal their rivals’ first i

It required all Riddell’s authority, in the face of this splendid achievement, to keep his men from jeopardising their second i

“For goodness’ sake don’t hulloa till you’re out of the wood!” he said; “they may catch up on you yet. Seventy-five isn’t such a big score after all. If you don’t look out you’ll muddle your chance away, and then how small you’ll look!”

With such advice to hold them in check, they went out as soberly as before to field, and devoted their whole energies to the task of disposing of their enemies’ wickets for the fewest possible runs.

And they succeeded quite as well as before. Indeed, the second i

When it became known that the Welchers had won the match by an i

Chapter Thirty Two

A Climax to Everything

Among the few Willoughbites who took no interest at all in the juniors’ match was Gilks.

It was hardly to be wondered at that he, a schoolhouse boy, should not concern himself much about a contest between the fags of Welch’s and Parrett’s. And yet, if truth were known, it would have been just the same had the match been the greatest event of the season, for Gilks, from some cause or other, was in no condition to care about anything.

He wandered about listlessly that afternoon, avoiding the crowded Big, and bending his steps rather to the unfrequented meadows by the river. What he was thinking about as he paced along none of the very few boys who met him that afternoon could guess, but that it was nothing pleasant was very evident.

At the begi

Among those who met him this afternoon was Wibberly. Wibberly, like Gilks, felt very little interest in the juniors’ match. He was one of the small party who yesterday had come in for such a smart snubbing from Bloomfield, and the only way to show his sense of the ingratitude of such treatment, especially towards an old toady like himself, was to profess no interest in an event which was notoriously interesting the Parretts’ captain.

So Wibberly strolled down that afternoon to the river, and naturally met Gilks.

The two were not by any means chums — indeed, they were scarcely to be called friends. But they had one considerable bond of sympathy in a common dislike for the schoolhouse, and still more for Riddell. Gilks, as the reader knows, was anything but a loyal schoolhouse man, and ever since he became a monitor had cast in his lot with the rival house. So that he was generally considered, and considered himself to be, quite as much of a Parrett as a “schoolhouser.”

“So you are not down looking at the little boys?” said Wibberly.

“No,” said Gilks.

“Awful rot,” said Wibberly, “making all that fuss about them!”

“Pleases them and doesn’t hurt us,” replied Gilks.

“In my opinion it’s all a bit of vanity on the part of Riddell. He’d like to make every one think he has been coaching his kids, and this is just a show-off.”

“Well, let him show off; who cares?” growled Gilks.

“All very well. He ought to be hooted round the school instead of flashing it there in the Big, the hypocritical cad!”

“Well, why don’t you go and do it?” said Gilks; “you’d get plenty to join you.”

“Would I? No, I wouldn’t. Even Bloomfield’s taking his part — he’s gammoned him somehow.”

“Well, that doesn’t prevent your going and hooting him, does it?” said Gilks, with a sneer. “You’ve a right to enjoy yourself as well as any one else.”

“What! have you come round to worship his holiness too?” asked Wibberly, who had at least expected some sympathy from Gilks.