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the library bath. Beckett lay in a foot of filthy water. Robin, Swinley, and Featherstone were examining their bruises. " It's that side post, Filson," said Featherstone. " He slicked like hell in the bully and the loose."
" I say, congratulations, Beckett, and everyone," said Denis. " Damned good show. You all played bloody well." He felt a little out of it and slightly uncomfortable.
" Not so bad," said Beckett. " Nobody in pop thought we would win."
" Look at that slick I got in the last ram," said Robin.
" Good God. You damn well deserved to win." Denis hoped they didn't think him condescending. It was so difficult congratulating his contemporaries. Peter pushed open the door.
" Oh, Lord, another?" said Beckett. "Standing room only, Peter."
" Well, you all look very pleased with yourselves," said Peter. " Did the naughty boys from Mr. Raven's hurt you, then ? "
" Chuck a sponge at him."
" Now you've lost it. The captain of the house throwing sponges in front of lower boys. That's what comes of winning a football match. By the way, there's a boy outside from Huntley's. He's got a sort of silver goblet affair with him."
" Bloody fool," said Beckett. " It's the house cup. Tell him to leave it on the library table. Hurrah."
" Right," said Peter. " I told him to come up here, as I thought you might like to drink your bath water out of it, or whatever is usual on these occasions." Beckett laughed.
Denis went upstairs. " Oh, Bailey, Harbord has let me off fagging. Is that all right ?" said Royds.
" Has he ? Right. Where's Redbridge ?"
" Here, Bailey."
" You needn't come either. Just put the tea on the table, if it isn't already, and have a look at my fire before supper."
" Thanks awfully, Bailey."
Denis walked along to Peter's room. He didn't want

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much tea. Besides, there was to be a sock supper that night in honour of the house cup, and he could do quite enough eating then. He sat waiting for the others. One of Peter's house groups caught his eye. Next summer the tall house football cup would be among the trophies on the table. Wren's was certainly looking up. Next summer would be fun. And, in a few days, the holidays. Christmas at Speenmouth and his visit to the Peritons in London. He was looking forward to it much more now that he knew how things were done in a big house.
" Hullo," said Peter, coming into the room. " Eaten all the tea, I suppose ? "