There's an
Archaeological Society in the school, run by him. It goes out on
half-holidays, prowling about, and is allowed to break bounds and
generally steep itself to the eyebrows in reckless devilry. And, mark
you, laddie, if you belong to the Archaeological Society you get off
cricket. To get off cricket," said Psmith, dusting his right trouser
leg, "was the dream of my youth and the aspiration of my riper years. A
noble game, but a bit too thick for me. At Eton I used to have to field
out at the nets till the soles of my boots wore through. I suppose you
are a blood at the game? Play for the school against Loamshire, and
so on."
"I'm not going to play here, at any rate," said Mike.
He had made up his mind on this point in the train. There is a certain
fascination about making the very worst of a bad job. Achilles knew his
business when he sat in his tent. The determination not to play cricket
for Sedleigh as he could not play for Wrykyn gave Mike a sort of
pleasure. To stand by with folded arms and a somber frown, as it were,
was one way of treating the situation, and one not without its meed
of comfort.
Psmith approved the resolve.
"Stout fellow," he said.
Pages:
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34