He was embarrassed and
nervous, and was trying not to show it. The natural result was that
his manner was offensively abrupt.
Adair was taking off his pads after his innings. He looked up. "This
net," it may be observed, was the first eleven net.
"What?" he said.
Mike repeated his request. More abruptly this time, from increased
embarrassment.
"This is the first eleven net," said Adair coldly. "Go in after Lodge
over there."
"Over there" was the end net, where frenzied novices were bowling on a
corrugated pitch to a red-haired youth with enormous feet, who looked
as if he were taking his first lesson at the game.
Mike walked away without a word.
* * * * *
The Archaeological Society expeditions, even though they carried with
them the privilege of listening to Psmith's views on life, proved but
a poor substitute for cricket. Psmith, who had no counter-attraction
shouting to him that he ought to be elsewhere, seemed to enjoy them
hugely, but Mike almost cried sometimes from boredom. It was not
always possible to slip away from the throng, for Mr. Outwood
evidently looked upon them as among the very faithful, and kept them
by his aide.
Mike on these occasions was silent and jumpy, his brow "sicklied o'er
with the pale cast of care." But Psmith followed his leader with the
pleased and indulgent air of a father whose infant son is showing him
round the garden.
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