CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR.
THE ROCKSHIRE MATCH.
Riddell was not destined to have much leisure during the next few days for indulging his misery or making up his mind in what direction his duty lay.
As he reached the school after his memorable excursion on the river, he was met by Fairbairn, who had evidently been on the lookout for him.
"Why, where have you been?
and what's wrong ?" he exclaimed, as he observed his friend's dejected looks.
"I've been a turn on the river," replied Riddell, making a desperate effort to recover his wits and look cheerful.
"You look every bit as if you were just starting there to drown yourself," said Fairbairn; "but, I say, I've got a message for you." "From whom ?" inquired Riddell, who had had quite enough "messages" during the last few days to last him for the rest of the term.
"You'd scarcely guess--from Bloomfield.

The thing is, he has two places yet to fill up in the eleven for Saturday, and he wants you to play for one." Despite his trouble, Riddell could hardly conceal a smile of pleasure at this honour, which, though not exactly unexpected, he had hardly realised till now.
"Oh, I say," said he, "I'm certain there are lots of better fellows." "You may be quite sure if there had been Bloomfield would have picked them up," said Fairbairn.

"As it happens, we want a slip, and I heard Bloomfield say himself that you are awfully good there.

You seem to have hidden your light under a bushel, old man, while in the schoolhouse." "I may have been lucky while Bloomfield was watching," said Riddell.
"All gammon.

You needn't fancy he's doing this to compliment you, old man.