The team to play in any match was always put upon the notice-board atthe foot of the stairs in the senior block a day before the date of thefixture. Both first and second fifteens had matches on the Thursday ofthis week. The second were playing a team brought down by an oldWrykinian. The first had a scratch game.

　　When Barry, accompanied by M'Todd, who shared his study at Seymour'sand rarely left him for two minutes on end, passed by the notice-boardat the quarter to eleven interval, it was to the second fifteen listthat he turned his attention. Now that Bryce had left, he thought hemight have a chance of getting into the second. His only real rival, heconsidered, was Crawford, of the School House, who was the other wingthree-quarter of the third fifteen. The first name he saw on the listwas Crawford's. It seemed to be written twice as large as any of theothers, and his own was nowhere to be seen. The fact that he had halfexpected the calamity made things no better. He had set his heart onplaying for the second this term.

　　Then suddenly he noticed a remarkable phenomenon. The other wingthree-quarter was Rand-Brown. If Rand-Brown was playing for the second,who was playing for the first?

　　He looked at the list.

　　"_Come_ on," he said hastily to M'Todd. He wanted to get awaysomewhere where his agitated condition would not be noticed. He feltquite faint at the shock of seeing his name on the list of the firstfifteen. There it was, however, as large as life. "M. Barry." Separatedfrom the rest by a thin red line, but still there. In his mostoptimistic moments he had never dreamed of this. M'Todd was readingslowly through the list of the second. He did everything slowly, excepteating.

　　"Come on," said Barry again.

　　M'Todd had, after much deliberation, arrived at a profound truth. Heturned to Barry, and imparted his discovery to him in the weightymanner of one who realises the importance of his words.

　　"Look here," he said, "your name's not down here.""I know. _Come_ on.""But that means you're not playing for the second.""Of course it does. Well, if you aren't coming, I'm off.""But, look here----"Barry disappeared through the door. After a moment's pause, M'Toddfollowed him. He came up with him on the senior gravel.

　　"What's up?" he inquired.

　　"Nothing," said Barry.

　　"Are you sick about not playing for the second?""No.""You are, really. Come and have a bun."In the philosophy of M'Todd it was indeed a deep-rooted sorrow thatcould not be cured by the internal application of a new, hot bun. Ithad never failed in his own case.

　　"Bun!" Barry was quite shocked at the suggestion. "I can't afford toget myself out of condition with beastly buns.""But if you aren't playing----""You ass. I'm playing for the first. Now, do you see?"M'Todd gaped. His mind never worked very rapidly. "What aboutRand-Brown, then?" he said.