Hugh Walpole

“ Corkery was not, as cricket is considered at Lord’s, a great cricketer, but he was a stolid, phlegmatic youth, too big for third game and too lazy to wake up and so push forward into second. He stood stolidly at his wicket, making a run or two occasionally in order to poach the bowling. Jeremy was sitting in the pavilion, his cap tilted forward over his eyes, nearly asleep, and praying that Corkery might stay in all the afternoon and so save him from batting. One of the younger masters, Newsom, a youth fresh from Cambridge, was presiding over the afternoon and longing for six o’clock. ”

“ Riley was disgusted. “You and your Percy,” he said. “You can jolly well choose, Stocky. It’s him or me. He’s all right now. The other fellows leave him alone. Why can’t you drop him?”
Jeremy could not explain why, but he did not want to drop him. He liked having something to look after.
Next week something more occurred. Baltimore was pushed up into second game. It was, indeed, very necessary that he should be. Had he stayed in third game that galaxy of all the cricketing talents would have been entirely demoralised; no one could withstand him. Wickets fell faster than ninepins. ”

“ There is no doubt at all that the protective maternal sense is very strong in the male as well as the female breast. Jeremy had known it before even with his tiresome sister Mary. Now Baltimore did what he was told and only appeared at certain intervals. Jeremy found himself then often wondering what the kid was about, whether any one was chastising him, and if so, how the kid was taking it. After the first week Baltimore was left a great deal alone, partly because of Jeremy’s championship, and partly because he was himself so boring and pitiful that there was nothing to be done with him. ”

“ In the following week Baltimore played for the second eleven, took eight wickets for twenty runs, and himself made thirty. A fortnight later he was down on the boards in the first eleven for the Lower Templeton match. Now, indeed, the whole school was talking about him, masters and boys alike. His batting was another matter from his bowling. There was no doubt at all that he was a natural cricketer. Mr. Rochester, the games master, said he was the most promising cricketer that he had yet seen at Thompson’s, remarkable style for so young a boy, an extraordinarily fine eye. ”

“ Baltimore paid no attention to anybody. He ran to the wicket and delivered an underhand lob. A second later Corkery’s bails were on the ground. Again, had any one noticed, he would have perceived that the delivery of that ball was no ordinary one, that the twist of the arm as it was delivered was definite and assured and by no means accidental.
No one noticed anything except that Corkery was at length out; although he had been batting for an hour and ten minutes, he had made only nine runs. Baltimore’s next three balls took three wickets, Jeremy’s amongst them. ”

“ He turned to Baltimore.
“I’m not going to have you following me everywhere,” he said. “I’m only looking after you because I promised Thompson. You can have your choice. I’ll leave you alone and let every one kick you as much as they like, and then you can go and sneak to Thompson. That won’t help you a bit; they’ll only kick you all the more. But if you behave decently and stop crying and come to me when you want anything I’ll see that none of the smaller boys touch you. If Cracky wants to hit you I can’t help it, but he hits everybody, so there’s nothing in that. ”

“ This was a good lead, and the hearts of Thompson’s beat high. Baltimore started well and took six of the Lower Templeton wickets for twenty; then he obviously tired. Cracky took him off, and Lower Templeton had three-quarters of an hour’s pure joy. As the school clock struck half-past six Lower Templeton had made sixty runs for eight wickets. Cracky then put Baltimore on again, and he took the remaining wickets for no runs. Thompson’s were victorious by six runs, and Baltimore was carried shoulder-high, amongst the plaudits of the surrounding multitudes, up to the school buildings. ”

“ He put his tongue out at Jeremy and swaggered off.
Jeremy stood there. He was hurt as he had never been before in his young life; he had, indeed, never known this kind of hurt.
some one came in.
“Hullo, Stocky! Coming up to chapel?”
“All right,” he answered, moving to get his books out of his locker. But he’d lost something, something awfully jolly. ... He fumbled in his locker for it. He wanted to cry—like any kid. He was crying, but he wasn’t going to let Stokoe see it. He found an old fragment of liquorice stick. ”

“ He did not realise it, but he had never in all his life before had any friend who had been a success. His father and mother, his sister Mary, his Uncle Samuel—none of these could be said to be in the eyes of the world successes. ”