'Hullo, Joe,' said Mike. 'What's up? I'm coming to see you this evening. I'm going to try and get off early.' 'Look here, Mike, are you busy at the bank just now?' 'Not at the moment. There's never anything much going on before eleven.' 'I mean, are you busy today? Could you possibly manage to get off and play for us against Middlesex?' Mike nearly dropped the receiver. 'What?' he cried. 'There's been the dickens of a mix-up. We're one short, and you're our only hope. We can't possibly get another man in the time. We start in half an hour. Can you play?' For the space of, perhaps, one minute, Mike thought. 'Well?' said Joe's voice. The sudden vision of Lord's ground, all green and cool in the morning sunlight, was too much for Mike's resolution, sapped as it was by days of restlessness. The feeling surged over him that whatever happened afterwards, the joy of the match in perfect weather on a perfect wicket would make it worth while. What did it matter what happened afterwards? 'All right, Joe,' he said. 'I'll hop into a cab now, and go and get my things.' 'Good man,' said Joe, hugely relieved. 26. Breaking The News Dashing away from the call-box, Mike nearly cannoned into Psmith, who was making his way pensively to the telephone with the object of ringing up the box office of the Haymarket Theatre. 'Sorry,' said Mike. 'Hullo, Smith.' 'Hullo indeed,' said Psmith, courteously. 'I rejoice, Comrade Jackson, to find you going about your commercial duties like a young bomb. How is it, people repeatedly ask me, that Comrade Jackson contrives to catch his employer's eye and win the friendly smile from the head of his department? My reply is that where others walk, Comrade Jackson runs. Where others stroll, Comrade Jackson legs it like a highly-trained mustang of the prairie. He does not loiter. He gets back to his department bathed in perspiration, in level time. He--' 'I say, Smith,' said Mike, 'you might do me a favour.' 'A thousand. Say on.' 'Just look in at the Fixed Deposits and tell old Gregory that I shan't be with him today, will you? I haven't time myself. I must rush!' Psmith screwed his eyeglass into his eye, and examined Mike carefully. 'What exactly--?' be began. 'Tell the old ass I've popped off.' 'Just so, just so,' murmured Psmith, as one who assents to a thoroughly reasonable proposition. 'Tell him you have popped off. It shall be done. But it is within the bounds of possibility that Comrade Gregory may inquire further. Could you give me some inkling as to why you are popping?' 'My brother Joe has just rung me up from Lords. The county are playing Middlesex and they're one short. He wants me to roll up.' Psmith shook his head sadly.