Outwood's rollicked considerably that night. Mike, if he had cared totake the part, could have been the Petted Hero. But a cordialinvitation from the senior day-room to be the guest of the evening atabout the biggest rag of the century had been refused on the plea offatigue. One does not make two hundred and seventy-seven runs on a hotday without feeling the effects, even if one has scored mainly by themedium of boundaries; and Mike, as he lay back in Psmith's deck-chair,felt that all he wanted was to go to bed and stay there for a week.

　　His hands and arms burned as if they were red-hot, and his eyes wereso tired that he could not keep them open.

　　Psmith, leaning against the mantelpiece, discoursed in a desultory wayon the day's happenings--the score off Mr. Downing, the undeniableannoyance of that battered bowler, and the probability of his ventinghis annoyance on Mike next day.

　　"In theory," said he, "the manly what-d'you-call-it of cricket and allthat sort of thing ought to make him fall on your neck to-morrow andweep over you as a foeman worthy of his steel. But I am prepared tobet a reasonable sum that he will give no Jiu-jitsu exhibition of thiskind. In fact, from what I have seen of our bright little friend, Ishould say that, in a small way, he will do his best to make itdistinctly hot for you, here and there.""I don't care," murmured Mike, shifting his aching limbs in the chair.

　　"In an ordinary way, I suppose, a man can put up with having hisbowling hit a little. But your performance was cruelty to animals.

　　Twenty-eight off one over, not to mention three wides, would have madeJob foam at the mouth. You will probably get sacked. On the otherhand, it's worth it. You have lit a candle this day which can never beblown out. You have shown the lads of the village how ComradeDowning's bowling ought to be treated. I don't suppose he'll ever takeanother wicket.""He doesn't deserve to."Psmith smoothed his hair at the glass and turned round again.

　　"The only blot on this day of mirth and good-will is," he said, "thesingular conduct of our friend Jellicoe. When all the place wasringing with song and merriment, Comrade Jellicoe crept to my side,and, slipping his little hand in mine, touched me for three quid."This interested Mike, fagged as he was.

　　"What! Three quid!""Three jingling, clinking sovereigns. He wanted four.""But the man must be living at the rate of I don't know what. It wasonly yesterday that he borrowed a quid from _me_!""He must be saving money fast. There appear to be the makings of afinancier about Comrade Jellicoe. Well, I hope, when he's collectedenough for his needs, he'll pay me back a bit. I'm pretty well cleanedout.""I got some from my brother at Oxford.""Perhaps he's saving up to get married. We may be helping towardsfurnishing the home. There was a Siamese prince fellow at my dame's atEton who had four wives when he arrived, and gathered in a fifthduring his first summer holidays. It was done on the correspondencesystem. His Prime Minister fixed it up at the other end, and sent himthe glad news on a picture post-card. I think an eye ought to be kepton Comrade Jellicoe."* * * * *Mike tumbled into bed that night like a log, but he could not sleep.

　　He ached all over. Psmith chatted for a time on human affairs ingeneral, and then dropped gently off. Jellicoe, who appeared to bewrapped in gloom, contributed nothing to the conversation.

　　After Psmith had gone to sleep, Mike lay for some time running over inhis mind, as the best substitute for sleep, the various points of hisinnings that day. He felt very hot and uncomfortable.

　　Just as he was wondering whether it would not be a good idea to get upand have a cold bath, a voice spoke from the darkness at his side.

　　"Are you asleep, Jackson?""Who's that?""Me--Jellicoe. I can't get to sleep.""Nor can I. I'm stiff all over.""I'll come over and sit on your bed."There was a creaking, and then a weight descended in the neighbourhoodof Mike's toes.

　　Jellicoe was apparently not in conversational mood. He uttered no wordfor quite three minutes. At the end of which time he gave a soundmidway between a snort and a sigh.

　　"I say, Jackson!" he said.

　　"Yes?""Have you--oh, nothing."Silence again.

　　"Jackson.""Hullo?""I say, what would your people say if you got sacked?""All s............