"Oh, don't be a damned ass, Betteridge, preaching to me. I know what I am doing. It's not long that I shall have to enjoy myself. I shall be in the Sixth soon, and shall have to slow down then. But at present I shall do damned well what I like. After all, what does it matter if I do rot all day and muck about generally? It makes no difference to you or the House. It's my own damned business, and besides, everyone else does it!" It was useless to reason with him. The argument that "others do it" is impossible to combat. And, after all, environment is what counts, and it is a fairly dangerous environment with which to surround any but the average sensual being who eats, drinks, laughs and is merry, and never thinks at all. And yet masters are surprised when they find the big man whom they thought impregnable following the accepted customs. They say: "What a pity! A fine fellow gone to the dogs, and after all we've done for him, too!" and yet whose fault is it? But this is by the wayside. For better or for worse the character of Gordon Caruthers was developing on its own lines. Criticism should be withheld till the last threads are woven, and we can judge of the complex whole. * * * * * The summer term was drawing to a close. It had not been very successful as far as Gordon was concerned. His cricket had frankly been a failure, and the prominence he had gained in his House hardly compensated for the misgivings with which the Chief and Buller regarded his future. It seemed as if he could not help running up against "the Bull." A-K was knocked out of the Senior House competition at once. They drew Christy's and were beaten by an innings. Gordon made eleven and fifteen, and was missed three times while making them. Foster, however, got a very sturdy thirty-three not out, and took three wickets. He got his House cap. Gordon was furious, and swore that he was jolly well not going to try any more that term. During the final senior he was strolling round the field with Tester, both of them in cloth suits, unchanged for games. "The Bull" came up behind them. "Caruthers, why aren't you changed this afternoon?" "Well sir, we only had a House game this afternoon, so Tester and I got leave off to watch the match." "But your House is not playing in it." "No, sir." "Well, then, what on earth do you mean by slacking about the field like this? It's your duty to be training yourself too, so that some day you may be of some use to Fernhurst, and here are you slacking about, instead of asking the pro. to give you a net. Slackness! filthy slackness! I don't know what's wrong with you this term; you were quite keen once." He strolled off, scratching the back of his head. "The Bull" always did this when in a bad temper.