But the step was not such a very long one after all. What it amountedto was simply this, that open rebellion ceased in Kay's. When Kennedyput up the list on the notice-board for the third time, which he didon the morning following his encounter with Walton, and wrote on itthat the match with Blackburn's would take place that afternoon, histeam turned out like lambs, and were duly defeated by thirty-onepoints. He had to play a substitute for Walton, who was rather toobattered to be of any real use in the scrum; but, with that exception,the team that entered the field was the same that should have enteredit the day before.

　　But his labours in the Augean stables of Kay's were by no means over.

　　Practically they had only begun. The state of the house now wasexactly what it had been under Fenn. When Kennedy had taken over thereins, Kay's had become on the instant twice as bad as it had beenbefore. By his summary treatment of the revolution, he had, so tospeak, wiped off this deficit. What he had to do now was to begin toimprove things. Kay's was now in its normal state--slack, rowdy in anunderhand way, and utterly useless to the school. It was "up to"Kennedy, as they say in America, to start in and make somethingpresentable and useful out of these unpromising materials.

　　What annoyed him more than anything else was the knowledge that ifonly Fenn chose to do the square thing and help him in his work, thecombination would be irresistible. It was impossible to make anyleeway to speak of by himself. If Fenn would only forget hisgrievances and join forces with him, they could electrify the house.

　　Fenn, however, showed no inclination to do anything of the kind. Heand Kennedy never spoke to one another now except when it wasabsolutely unavoidable, and then they behaved with that painfulpoliteness in which the public schoolman always wraps himself as in agarment when dealing with a friend with whom he has quarrelled.

　　On the Walton episode Fenn had made no comment, though it is probablethat he thought a good deal.

　　It was while matters were in this strained condition that Fennreceived a letter from his elder brother. This brother had been atEckleton in his time--School House--and had left five years before togo to Cambridge. Cambridge had not taught him a great deal, possiblybecause he did not meet the well-meant efforts of his tutor half-way.

　　The net result of his three years at King's was--_imprimis_, acricket blue, including a rather lucky eighty-three at Lord's;secondly, a very poor degree; thirdly and lastly, a taste forliterature and the drama--he had been a prominent member of theFootlights Club. When he came down he looked about him for someoccupation which should combine in happy proportions a small amount ofwork and a large amount of salary, and, finding none, drifted intojournalism, at which calling he had been doing very fairly ever since.

　　"Dear Bob," the letter began. Fenn's names were Robert Mowbray, thesecond of which he had spent much of his time in concealing. "Just aline."The elder Fenn always began his letters with these words, whether theyran to one sheet or eight. In the present case the screed was notparticularly long.

　　"Do you remember my reading you a bit of an opera I was writing? Well,I finished it, and, after going the round of most of the managers, whochucked it with wonderful unanimity, it found an admirer in Higgs, theman who took the part of the duke in _The Outsider_. Luckily, hehappened to be thinking of starting on his own in opera............