good halves. That’s where the Dickinson has it on


Smeed listened in awe to- the two statesmen study- ing out the chances of the Kennedy eleven for the house championship, realising suddenly that there were new and sacred purposes about his new life of which he had no conception. Then, absorbed by the fantasy of the trip and the strange unfolding world into which he was jogging, he forgot the lords of the Kennedy, forgot his fellows in ignorance, forgot that he didn’t play football and was only a stripling, forgot everything but the fascination of the moment when the great school would rise out of the distance and fix itself indelibly in his memory.

“There’s the water-tower,” said Jimmy, extend- ing the whip; you’ll see the school from the top of the hill.”

Little Smeed craned forward with a sudden thump- ing of his heart. In the distance, a mile away, a cluster of brick and tile sprang out of the green, like a herd of red deer surprised in the forest. Groups of boys began to show on the roadside.

Strange greetings were flung back and forth.

Hello-oo, Fire Crackers!