When Percy and Co. returned, they found the pavilion was filling up, and, greatly to their delight, the front row was empty. The enemy had been cleared out; and serve them right. "Come on, you chaps," said Lickford; "don't let's get stuck in there. Come over to the oak tree, and get up there. It's the best view in the field." Alas! when they got to the oak tree, four friendly voices hailed them from among the leaves. "How are you, Modern kids? There's a ripping view up here. Have an acorn? Mind your eye. Sorry we're full up. Plenty of room up the poplar tree." The Moderns scorned to reply, and walked back sulkily to the pavilion, not without parting greetings from their friends up the oak tree, and squatted themselves on the steps. The place was filling up now. Mrs Stratton was there with some visitors. All the little Wakefields were there, of course--"minor, minimus, and minimissima," as they were called--uttering war-whoops in honour of their house. And there was a knot of Rendlesham fellows talking among themselves and generally taking stock of the Fellsgarth form. Mr Stratton, in civilian dress, as became the umpire, was the first representative of the School to show up on the grass. A distant cheer from the top of the oak tree hailed his arrival, and louder cheers still from the steps of the pavilion indicated that the popular master was not the private property of any faction in Fellsgarth. To Fisher minor it was amazing how Mr Stratton could talk and laugh as pleasantly as he did with the umpire for the other side. He felt sure _he_ could not have done it himself. Suddenly it occurred to Fisher minor, by what connection of ideas he could not tell, what an awful thing it would be if Rollitt were to forget about the match. The horror of the idea, which had all the weight of a presentiment, sent the colour from his cheeks, and without a word to anybody he slid down the tree and began to run with all his might towards the school. "What's the row--collywobbles!" asked D'Arcy. But no one was in a position to answer. A fusillade of acorns from the tree, and derisive compliments of "Well run!" "Bravo, Short-legs!" from the pavilion steps, greeted the runner as he passed that warm corner. He didn't care. Even the captain and his own brother, whom he met going down to the field of battle, did not divert him. He rushed panting up the stairs and into Rollitt's study. Rollitt was sitting at the table taking observations of a crumb of bread through a microscope. "Rollitt," gasped the boy, "the match! It's just beginning, and you promised to play. Do come, or we shall be licked!" Rollitt took a further look at the crumb and then got up. "I forgot," said he; "come on, Fisher minor." "Aren't you going to put on flannels?" asked the boy. "Why!" said Rollitt roughly, stalking out.