“Thanks awfully, but otherwise engaged,” he said. “Are you going up to house after you’ve finished being drowned?” asked Maddox. “No, I was going to have tea with a fellow in college,” said David. “But I’m rather wet, I’m afraid.” “You’ll go up to house and change first, do you see?” said Maddox. “And you might bring up a parcel there will be for me at the lodge. Hasn’t come yet, but it’ll come any minute.” “Right,” said David. The game was resumed, but Maddox still lingered. Both boys played with redoubled keenness before so honourable a spectator, but David’s artless and incessant conversation was felt by him to be unsuitable. Maddox watched in silence for a minute. “No, let the ball drop more,” he said, Bags having made an egregiously futile return. “Don’t take an easy ball like that till it’s quite low. David, you play with your whole arm like a windmill, whereas you only want your wrist. Just keep flicking it: look here.” Maddox gave David the large umbrella to hold and, taking his racquet, knocked up down the left-hand wall of the court, sending each ball parallel and close to it, with easy accuracy. “Like that more or less,” he said. “Now I’m wet, blast you both.” He took his umbrella again, reminded David of the parcel, and splashed off across the quadrangle. Familiarity and closer acquaintance had not in the least made David get over the glory and wonder of Maddox. “By gad,” he said, “fancy his taking the trouble to coach two scugs like you and me. Isn’t he a ripper? Come on, let’s have one more game.” “Oh, I vote we stop,” said Bags. “It’s too wet for anything.” “Rot! We can’t possibly get wetter than we are.” David, of course, had his way, and it was not till twenty minutes later that they trotted off down the Bath Road, on their way to Adams’s, David going by preference through the larger puddles. Bags’s mind, and no doubt David’s also, still ran upon Maddox. “Does he always call you David?” he asked at length. “Lord, yes, when we’re alone,” said David, “and I suppose he thought you didn’t count. I remember how sick I was when my father called me ‘David’ at Helmsworth. Sort of disgrace to have your Christian name known. What beastly little scugs we were, with smoking and keeping stag-beetles!” “I never did either,” said Bags, in a rather superior manner. David jumped with both feet in a particularly large puddle, and covered Bags with splashed water. “I know you didn’t,” he said. “You were such a scug, you see, that you didn’t do those things when it was scuggish not to. But now, when it’s scuggish to do them, I believe you do. I bet you smoke. You and Plugs went out smoking yesterday after hall.” “Well, what if I did?” said Bags. “And how did you know?” “Because I stunk you when you came back, Simple. What a funny chap you are! You never smoked at Helmsworth where it was the right thing, and yet you do here where it’s the wrong thing.” Bags plodded on for a little while in silence.