Mike at Wrykyn Read Online Free PDF

world
telling people things solely for their good. He was only doing it now to ease
his conscience.
    “Yes?”
said Mike coldly.
    “It’s
only this. You know, I should keep an eye on myself if I were you. There’s
nothing that gets a chap so barred here as side.”
    “What
do you mean?” said Mike, outraged.
    “Oh,
I’m not saying anything against you so far,” said Bob. “You’ve been all right
up to now. What I mean to say is, you’ve got on so well at cricket, in the
third and so on, there’s just a chance you might start throwing your weight
around soon, if you don’t watch yourself. I’m not saying a word against you so
far, of course. Only you see what I mean.”
    Mike’s
feelings were too deep for words. In sombre silence he reached out for the jam;
while Bob, satisfied that he had delivered his message in a pleasant and
tactful manner, filled his cup, and cast about him for further words of
wisdom.
    “Seen
you about with Wyatt a good deal,” he said at length.
    “Yes,”
said Mike.
    “Like
him?”
    “Yes,”
said Mike cautiously.
    “You know,”
said Bob, “I shouldn’t—I mean, I should take care what you’re doing with
Wyatt.”
    “What
do you mean?”
    “Well,
he’s an awfully good chap, of course, but still—“
    “Still
what?”
    “Well,
I mean, he’s the sort of chap who’ll probably get into some thundering row
before he leaves. He doesn’t care a hang what he does. He’s that sort of chap.
He’s never been dropped on yet, but if you go on breaking rules you’re bound to
be sooner or later. Thing is, it doesn’t matter much for him, because he’s
leaving at the end of the term. But don’t let him drag you into anything. Not
that he would try to. But you might think it was the done thing to imitate him,
and the first thing you knew you’d be dropped on by Wain or somebody. See what
I mean?”
    Bob was
well-intentioned, but tact did not enter greatly into his composition.
    “What
rot!” said Mike.
    “All
right. But don’t you go doing it. I’m going over to the nets. I see Burgess has
shoved you down for them. You’d better be going and changing. Stick on here a
bit, though, if you want any more tea. I’ve got to be off myself.”
    Mike
changed for net-practice in a ferment of spiritual injury. It was maddening to
be treated as an infant who had to be looked after. He felt very sore against
Bob.
    A good
innings at the third eleven net, followed by some strenuous fielding in the
deep, soothed his ruffled feelings to a large extent; and all might have been
well but for the intervention of Firby-Smith.
    That
youth, all spectacles and front teeth, met Mike at the door of Wain’s.
    “Ah, I
wanted to see you, young man,” he said. (Mike disliked being called “young
man.”) “Come up to my study.”
    Mike
followed him in silence to his study, and preserved his silence till
Firby-Smith, having deposited his cricket-bag in a corner of the room and
examined himself carefully in a looking-glass that hung over the mantelpiece,
spoke again.
    “I’ve
been hearing all about you, young man.” Mike shuffled.
    “You’re
a frightful character from all accounts.” Mike could not think of anything to
say that was not rude, so said nothing.
    “Your
brother has asked me to keep an eye on you.”
    Mike’s
soul began to tie itself into knots again. He was just at the age when one is
most sensitive to patronage and most resentful of it.
    “I
promised I would,” said the Gazeka, turning round and examining himself in the
mirror again. “You’ll get on all right if you behave yourself. Don’t make a
frightful row in the house. Don’t cheek your elders and betters. Wash. That’s
all. Buzz off.”
    Mike
had a vague idea of sacrificing his career to the momentary pleasure of
flinging a chair at the head of the house. Overcoming this feeling, he walked
out of the room, and up to his dormitory to change.
     
    In the dormitory that
night the feeling of revolt, of wanting to do