The "kids" in question had finished the brandy-balls, and, resenting my desertion, had decided to follow me into the open. As I had reached it by swarming over the front of the stand and dropping a foot or so on to the earth, they naturally selected that route as most suitable for them. They had half accomplished it, to the extent of getting over the edge of the low parapet and beginning to lower themselves on the outside, when Mamie's frock caught in a nail, which suspended her between heaven and earth, while Gladys, in her uncertainty whether to scream or assist, had toppled to the ground all of a heap, and solved the difficulty that way. Their screeches almost put our loyal cheers to the blush, and when I rushed up to extricate the one and pick up the other, I was in the centre of a hullaballoo which almost threatened to wreck the Sports. How they quieted down I know not. I believe it was my announced determination to walk them straight home which did it. At any rate, it was clear to me there was no more rubbing down of Sharpe's calves for me that day. I must remain, like Casabianca, on deck, even though it cost us all the events of the day. It was a thankless task. First of all there was the usual ceremony of "cosseting" and drying tears. Then with a pin I had to mend the rent in Mamie's frock. Then I had to kiss both of Gladys's elbows to make them well, and finally I had to stand a fusillade of chaff and jeers from the Philosophers, which made life a heavier burden that it was already. At last, to my joy, the bell rang up for the High Jump under fifteen, and public attention was diverted from my lamentable case. As everybody who knew anything had anticipated, Langrish won this, metaphorically speaking, "on his head." He knocked out the second man (a Selkirker) at 4 feet and half an inch, and went on gamely 2 inches higher, clearing the bar as prettily and daintily as Wales himself might have done in the open event. It was not at all certain he could not have gone higher against an opponent; but having no such spur, he grew careless, and after barely shaking down the bar twice at 4 feet 3 inches, kicked it off awkwardly the third time, and so retired an easy victor, and quite overcome by the applause of the now crowded field. Then came the event of the day--the Open Mile, for which Tempest and Redwood were the only combatants. I felt myself growing as nervous as if I were running myself. For my instinct told me that the welfare of Sharpe's more or less hung on the issue. Could Tempest but win, there would be no doubt that he would return to the headship of the house with an eclat which even Crofter would have to yield to. If not, Crofter might still hang on to the reins and claim his doubtful rights.