It is at first sight a little odd that such a blameless boy should ever have made a friend of one Sandham, a big fellow low down in the school, and in another house. Sandham, however, was a handsome daredevil of strong but questionable character, and it suited him to have a leading præpostor for his friend. One hesitates to add that he was a younger son of a rather prominent peer, lest the statement be taken as in any way accounting for Evan’s side of the friendship. It is only the thousandth boy, however, who troubles himself to think twice about another’s fellow’s people, high or low. Of all beings boys are in this respect the least snobbish, and Evan Devereux was of all schoolboys the last to embody an exception to that or any other general rule. Sandham was not the only fellow whose hereditary quality was denoted by a “Mr.” in the list; the others were nobodies in the school, and neither Evan nor anybody else made up to them. But to the aristocracy of athletics he could bow as low as his neighbour, and his friend Sandham was an athlete of the first water. Half-back in the fifteen, as good a bat as there was in the Eleven, and a conjuror at extra cover, the gifted youth must needs signalise his friend’s Captaincy of Games by adding the Athletic Championship to his bag of honours. Winner of the Steeplechase, Hurdles, Hundred-yards, Quarter-mile and Wide-jump, not only was Sandham Champion but the rest were nowhere in the table of marks. It must be added that he wore his halo with a rakish indifference which lent some colour to the report that “Mr.” Sandham had been removed from Eton before old Thrale gave him another chance. “He’s a marvellous athlete, whatever else he is,” said Chips to Jan, on the last Sunday of the Easter term. “I’m blowed if I know what else he is,” replied Jan, “but I should be sorry to see quite so much of him if I were Evan.” “Not you,” cried Chips, “if you were Evan! You’d jolly well see all you could of anybody at the top of the tree!” “Look here, Chips, dry up! Evan’s pretty near the top himself.” “Are you going to stick him in the Eleven?” “If he’s good enough, and I hope he will be.” “Of course it’s expected of you.” “Who expects it?” “Sandham for one, and Devereux himself for another. Didn’t you see how they stopped to make up to you when they overtook us just now?” “I don’t know what you mean. Evan’s a friend of mine, and of course I’ve seen a lot of Sandham. They only asked if I was going to get any practice in the holidays.” “They took good care to let you know they were going to have some. So Evan’s going to stay with Sandham’s people, is he?” “It was Sandham said that.” “And they’re going to have a professor down from Lord’s!” “Well, they might be worse employed.” “They might so. I should rather like to know what they’re up to at this very minute.”