CHAPTER THIRTY SIX.
WILLOUGHBY HERSELF AGAIN.
It was the day of the Templeton match, and all Willoughby had once more turned out into the Big to watch the achievements of its heroes.
Yet it was not so much the cricket that fellows crowded out to see.

Of course, the contest between the second-eleven and Templeton was moderately interesting.

But it was not of the first importance, and Willoughby might have survived had it been deprived of the pleasure of witnessing it.
But the pleasure of witnessing old Wyndham umpiring for the old school in the very Big where his own mighty victories had been achieved, was quite another matter; and in honour of this event it was that Willoughby turned out in a body and watched the Templeton match.
The old captain had not much altered in the few weeks since he had left Willoughby.

His whiskers had not had time to grow, and he even wore the same flannel jacket he had on at the athletic sports in May.

But in the eyes of the boys he might have been no longer a man, but a demi-god, with such awe and reverence did they behold him.
He had lately scored one hundred and five for the Colts of his county, and had even been selected to play in the eleven against M.C.C.