"We'll see, old fellow," he said at last; "your father mightn't quite like it, I think; and of course, as you say, you must take care not to offend him. Stick to that, Kenyon; always be good to your father and Ethel." "They're awfully good to me, certainly," said Kenyon, with a sigh. "Dear old Ethel! Have you seen her with her hair up, C. J.?" "I just saw her in the hall; she is quite grown up." "She's a brick.... Do you really think the governor would mind--you reading the cricket, I mean? It _must_ bore him, no matter what he says; how can it help doing?" "It might bore him to read it to himself; it may delight him to read it to you." Kenyon turned his cheek to the pillow, and stared at the dismal evening sky. No doubt he was wondering, in his small way, if he was a very ungrateful, unnatural son; and trying to account for it, if it was so; and wishing he were comfortably certain it was not so. "Besides," added Forrester, "I shall not be able to stay many days, you know." Indeed it seemed to him that he had better not stay; but Kenyon's eyes were on him in a twinkling. "How many?" he asked, almost with a gasp. "A week at the outside; it's the Lancashire match the week after next." Again Kenyon turned, and his sharp profile looked sharper than before against the pillow. "Of course you must play against Lancashire--and make your century," he said, with such a hollow heartiness that, first-class cricketer as he was, and few as were his present opportunities for first-class cricket, C. J. instantly resolved to cancel all remaining engagements. Kenyon went on: "I'm hoping to get up, you know, before long. Surely I've been here long enough? It's all rot, _I_ say, keeping you in bed like this; you get as weak as a cat. I believe the governor thinks so too. I know they're going to have a doctor down from London to see me. If he lets me get up, and you come back after you've made that century, we might have some more cricket, mightn't we? I'd give anything to have some before the term begins. I want another of those leg-hits! I say, they think I might be able to go to St. Crispin's next term, don't they?" Forrester remembered. "I don't know. You might be able, perhaps." "Why do you say it like that?"