"I don't know, but if I thought you were going yourself"
"Shut up, Evan! That's all settled. You go in fourth wicket down again, and mind you make some."
"But if you're seen"
"What on earth makes you think I'm going? I've fixed up the whole thing. That should be good enough. I thought you left it to me?"
At Heriot's corner, old Bob himself was standing in conversation with Mr. Haigh, the two of them mechanically returning the no less perfunctory salutes of the passing stream. Charles Cave had paused a moment before going on into the house.
"I'm afraid the hero of the morning's a bit off-colour, Mr. Heriot."
"Not Rutter?"
Cave nodded.
"He says his head's bad. I think it must be. It looks to me like a touch of the sun."
"I hope not," said Heriot, as Cave passed on. "He really is a fine fellow, Haigh, as well as the fine bowler you've just seen once more. I sometimes think you might forget what he was, after all these years."
"Oh, I've nothing against the fellow," said Haigh, rather grandly. "But I take a boy as I find him, and I found Rutter the most infernal nuisance I ever had in my form."
"Years ago!"
"Well, at all events, there's no question of a grudge on my side. I wouldn't condescend to bear a grudge against a boy."
Haigh spoke as though he really wished to mean what he said. His general principles were as sound as his heart could be kind, but both were influenced by a temper
