"Oh, that's Gull, an Oppidan," answered Power; "he's one of their best fielders. Who is going in next, I wonder? Beaumont, I see. Ah, he's one of our crack players." "Beautiful! beautiful!" shouted the Squire, as other hits were made. "Capital--first-rate--bravo--bravo--well run--a superb hit!" His animated remarks soon drew the attention of the boys towards him. When they heard from Anson that he was an old Etonian, they regarded him with a respect he might not otherwise have obtained, and all were eager to show him any attention in their power. They went on end had a look at the other games, and at last the hour came when it was necessary for the Squire to turn his steps towards the station. He had also on his way there to introduce Reginald to his tutor, Mr Lindsay. Old Spankie had been looking out for them. He had seen Power with him, and thus learned his name and all about him. "Ah, Mr Warrender," quoth the man of buns and tarts; "it's a great pleasure to feel that you remembered me, as well as I remembered you. The moment I set my eyes on that young gentleman, I was certain that he was your son. If he had come alone, I should have known that his name was Warrender." This assertion was even more than the Squire could well swallow. "I used to find your buns more digestible than your word; I hope they are so now," he answered, laughing. The Squire did not forget a good thing when he said it himself, and this saying was many a time afterwards repeated to his own infinite satisfaction at Blessingham. He was able most conscientiously to introduce Reginald with a very good character to Mr Lindsay, who being a good physiognomist, was satisfied that he had got a tractable pupil. The three boys accompanied the Squire to the station. Reginald did not feel a particle of sadness till just as the Squire was getting into the carriage, and then a suffocating sensation rose up in his throat which made him feel that he must have a good hearty cry--not for himself, but it was a reminder of how much he loved his father. Away rattled, and puffed, and smoked, and steamed the train, and Reginald Warrender was left to his own resources. STORY THREE, CHAPTER TWO. Reginald, with Power and Anson, as soon as they had seen the Squire off, hurried back to the Brocas--some fields on the banks of the river. The rapidly-flowing stream passes by them, and on its smooth but somewhat sedgy current all sorts of boating were taking place, and Reginald was quickly initiated into a knowledge of the variety of craft used by the boys. As he was very well up to boating, he found no difficulty in the matter.