A CRICKET MATCH AT BURTINGTON
The summer term at Oxford would be even more pleasant than it is if it
did not start in April and finish when the summer is just beginning. I
do not wish to say anything about weather, but without taking an
interest in the abnormal quantities of rain or wanting to know why the
sun shines so seldom, I do think that if the success of a term depends
largely upon an English May, it is apt to be very limited. I have been
told so often by quite truthful men that there are other people besides
undergraduates to be considered in Oxford, that I have never felt so
convinced about anything, except that Queen Anne is dead; but all the
same it seems to me that the undergraduate is not given a chance of
being comfortably warm for any length of time. And if the authorities
who fix the terms, or if they like it better, the academical year,
would understand that an undergraduate is a far nicer man when he is
comfortable, they might be inclined to cease from compelling him to
play cricket when it is impossible to think of anything but the biting
wind.
For my own part I am certain that I have never wanted to break rules or
windows when the sun shines, but some men, when they become depressed
by the weather, turn their thoughts to throwing things about, and there
are so many windows in a quad that wherever you throw you seem to hit
one of them. The only window I smashed was not entirely my fault, for
Ward ducked his head just as a tennis-ball was going to hit it; the
Subby, however, who was trying to instil logic into a lot of pass
"mods" men, was annoyed by broken glass falling into his lecture-room.
This was a bad beginning to the summer term, but had it not rained for
nearly two days I should have been playing cricket that morning, and if
Ward's head had happened to be in front of the Subby's lecture-room I
should not have been there to throw at it. I tried to explain this to
the Subby, but there is a certain kind of reasoning which does not make
much impression on either dons or schoolmasters. I asked him if he
thought any man who was booked to play cricket all day could sit down
at once and work when he heard that his match was scratched, and he
answered, "Undoubtedly." The Subby was a nice enough man in some ways,
but in others he was simply hopeless. He was not so absolutely
unapproachable as Mr. Edwardes, for although you had got to imagine for
all you were worth you could think of him as an "undergrad," but when
Murray and I tried to persuade ourselves that Mr. Edwardes had once
been only twenty years old we wasted our time, and Murray told me that
I was always trying to do impossible things.
Oxford, however, is a good place when you are only playing at summer,
and it is really splendid if you are lucky enough to have a fine May
and early June. I went back there full of enthusiasm, I meant to do a
hundred things, but I am afraid my programme was a little too full; to
carry it out successfully I required the co-operation of the Subby and
Mr. Edwardes, and no one but an enthusiast, or a fool, would have
thought he was likely to get it. My experiences with Mr. Edwardes
during my second term had been placidly uneventful, but they had been
gained by very great effort on my part, and they did not seem to have
been worth the effort, since my tutor was almost as great an iceberg at
the end of the term as he had been at the beginning. He could not
thaw, but I never found out that until I had spent many unsuccessful
interviews with him. I thought after going through one term without
offending him that I was what golfers, I believe, would call "one up,"
and I felt that it would be an easy matter to increase my score, but I
made a great mistake. Mr. Edwardes did not realize in the least that
cricket is a very important and tiring game. I told him frankly that I
wanted to enjoy myself during my first summer term, and that if my work
was neglected a little I hoped he would understand the reason. He
failed to understand it, and instead of being pleased with my candour,
he took up a sort of pouncing attitude. He was fairly on the look-out,
and when a don gets into that state it is not likely he is going to
watch for nothing.
In the freshers' match Foster and I were on opposite sides, which
seemed to me a very poor kind of arrangement even before we began, and
what I thought of it after the match was over is not worth saying. The
weather on the first day of the game was never intended for cricket,
and I have very rarely seen a nose glow quite so gorgeously as the
umpire who no-balled me twice in my first over. I actually began the
bowling, though I think the reason for this honour must have been that
Cross of Magdalen, who was secretary to the 'Varsity XI. and captained
our side, knew my name. Foster and Henderson began the batting, and my
first ball which was supposed to be directed at Foster's wicket was a
most abominable wide, the second and third he hit to the boundary, the
fourth was a no-ball, and I really forget what happened after that, but
I know that it was the sort of over which seemed as if it would never
end. I had not been no-balled before, and this unexpected misfortune
made my bowling quite comically bad. Cross kept me on for seven overs,
because as I heard him say afterwards he thought the beginning was too
bad to be true. Foster made 128 and Henderson 93, I got one wicket for
78 runs, but the man I got out was not supposed to be a batsman, and he
confided to me as we went back to the pavilion that his highest score
for his school during the last season had been 5. This information on
the top of my inglorious performance was really rather trying; he
might, I thought, have kept it to himself, but he had made 11 and was
unduly elated. Their side made 358, and our two innings only totalled
301; I went in last, with the exception of Cross, and made such
furiously ineffective efforts to hit some leg-breaks, that Rushden of
New College, who was a most serious cricketer and captain of the
'Varsity XI., was compelled to laugh. But I did land one ball into the
shrubbery, which was the only moment during the match when I felt that
cricket in a cold wind was worth playing. After it was all over,
however, I was delighted that Fred had started so well, and it did not
surprise me at all when I saw that my name was not down to play for the
Sixteen Freshmen against the 'Varsity XI.; in fact I should have been
very surprised if Rushden had not made up his mind about me. Both Fred
and Henderson did well in this second trial match and were chosen to
play for the Varsity against the M.C.C., while I went back to college
cricket and lived upon what reputation I had brought from Cliborough
for quite three weeks. I could not get any wickets however much I
tried until we played Pembroke, who were not exactly a strong batting
side, and to make things easier for me they had their three best men
away. After this match I got my college colours, but I am afraid that
it is doubtful if I deserved them.
Jack Ward played for the College XI., but his best scores were made for
the St. Cuthbert's Busters, who played villages round Oxford, and were
not very depressed if they were beaten. Collier, Lambert and Dennison
also played for the Busters, and a kind of truce had been patched up
between Jack and Dennison, because Jack said that it was too much
trouble to keep up a quarrel with any one whom he was always meeting,
and Dennison was at that time so occupied with other schemes that he
treated Jack as if he was his dearest friend.
Some senior men in the college were getting very dissatisfied with the
state of it, for they said that it was all right to have an occasional
rag if we had anything to rag about; but as we did not seem able to
row, play footer or cricket, we had better keep quiet. They did
nothing except talk, and Dennison played up to them with all his might;
he had got his half-blue for racquets, and they, not knowing him as
well as Jack, Collier and I did, thought that he was really keen on the
college. But, as a matter of fact, he howled with laughter when our
torpid went down six places, and said that if men were fools enough to
row they deserved to be laughed at, whatever happened to them.
No one wants to belong to a college which can do nothing but howl at
night, since the greatest slackers in the 'Varsity howl the loudest.
Dennison worked hard for popularity among senior men, but he cared
nothing for the college, and several of the freshers knew that if he
got a set round him who intended to manage the place, St. Cuthbert's
was doomed as far as athletics were concerned. He was made for some
college which is in the habit of having only one blue every ten years
or so, and may possibly treat him as if he is a very fine specimen when
they have got him.
We could not help doing well in the schools, because we always had
scholars who took Firsts with beautiful regularity; but no one thought
very much about it, since it was a thing to which every one in the
'Varsity was accustomed.
Even Fred Foster told me that it was a pity St. Cuthbert's was going
downhill so fast; but apart from being angry there was nothing for me
to do, except wait. Our dons, taken in the mass, wanted us to work and
be quiet; they did not care what happened to our eight or our eleven,
and when a man got his blue he was generally told that he must not
allow it to interfere with his reading. Unless dons meet
undergraduates half-way a college is bound, sooner or later, to suffer;
but a little humanity can do wondrous things. During my first year the
Warden was the only don who was kind to me, and though I liked him so
much that I forgave him for not appreciating the difference between
bumping and being bumped, I must confess that his kindness was of a
peculiar kind. St. Cuthbert's, in the opinion of the 'Varsity, had
begun to go down rapidly, and we got very little sympathy from anybody
outside the college. The outlook was gloomy enough, for I was bound to
have rows with Mr. Edwardes as long as I had anything to do with him,
and if I could have been of any use in trying to improve things, I knew
that unless some new dons came I should have to spend most of my time
in looking after myself. I wished that Fred had come to St.
Cuthbert's, for Murray was too quiet to do anything, Collier was too
sleepy, and Jack Ward seemed to be as happy-go-lucky as I was.
It looked as if Dennison was bound to win in the long run, for he was a
thousand times cleverer at getting what he wanted than any of us, and
he had the great advantage of knowing what he did want. His aim, I
knew, was to be the leader of a set who gambled and yelled and played
games which he thought were fit for bloods to play. Slackness during
the day and liveliness at night were briefly his programme, and though
it is all very well to be lively at night, it seemed to some of us that
if we were to sink to the bottom of the river and care nothing for the
reputation of the college, we were in for a very bad time. By nature
both Jack Ward and I were cheerful, and if it had not been for hating
Dennison I don't think that I should have wanted to check my
cheerfulness. As it was, I had a vague sort of feeling that what
Dennison liked must be wrong.
I saw Dennison as seldom as I could, but Jack Ward came to me one
morning when there was no college match, and when I had nothing to do
which could not conveniently be put off, to ask me to play for the
Busters. Somebody had scratched at the last moment, and even if I had
not wanted to play I should have found a difficulty in resisting Jack.
We drove seven miles to a village called Burlington, and had great
difficulty in finding the wicket when we arrived, but our driver had
been there before, and insisted on us getting out by a field which
looked as if it might produce a bountiful crop of hay. Lambert--who
had talked a lot about being asked to play for his county--pretended to
be very disgusted, and strode about as if he owned the whole place; we
had to be very rude to him, so that we might prevent him from hurting
the feelings of the Burlington men.
In the middle of the field a small space had been mown, and the pitch
itself, apart from a few holes, was not at all bad, but Bagshaw, who
was captaining the Busters, decided at once that he should keep wicket
because he did not want to stand up to his knees in grass. The captain
of the Burtington team was the local publican, a hearty man who told us
in the same breath that he was very glad to see us, and that he had
played cricket for thirty years, boy and man. His name was Plumb, and
I liked him very much; he played in both braces and a belt, because he
told us belts were ticklish things and braces sometimes burst. I
answered that it was always well to be on the safe side, and we had
quite a confidential talk, until Lambert and Dennison came up and
interrupted us. Lambert began to complain about the long grass, and I
was afraid Mr. Plumb might be offended, but I expect he had seen a good
many people like Lambert, and he only smiled compassionately at him.
"You see it's like this," he said, "this damp, not to call it a wet
spring, has made this yer grass grow, and what I say is that weather
that is good for farmers up to June is bad for us cricketers. But,
bless me, there's nothing to complain of here--I've played cricket in
some funny places if you like, and many a dap on the side of the head
I've had in my time."
"This man," Dennison remarked, pointing at me, "is a very fast bowler."
Mr. Plumb shut one eye and looked at me with interest. "Then," he
said, "I think you had better bowl up the hill; I have seen them kick a
bit at the other end, nothing to speak of, but Bill Higgs got his nose
cut open come next Saturday three weeks; he's a fast bowler if you
like, I've seen Spofforth and I've seen Mold, but for pace give me Bill
Higgs."
"Is he playing to-day?" Lambert asked as unconcernedly as he could.
"Oh yes, he's playing, he's the terror of the neighbourhood. There he
is, the tall man, he's our policeman when he's not playing cricket. My
eye, his arms are like tree-trunks," and Mr. Plumb left us and walked
over to talk to Bill Higgs, but I am not at all sure that he did not
wink at me before he went.
"You didn't score much there," I said to Dennison.
"Cricket isn't good enough in these outlandish holes," he answered, and
seized Collier to tell him about Bill Higgs. Lambert went off hastily
to get a drink, and was not seen again until Bagshaw had won the toss
and decided to go in.
We began our innings with Lambert and Collier, and Bagshaw could not
have chosen a funnier pair. There was some difficulty in getting them
ready, for Collier had left his pads behind, and we had a desperate job
to find any which were large enough to fit him, while Lambert was so
engaged in persuading us that Higgs on a bumping wicket was nothing to
a man who had been asked to play for his county that at one time he had
lost both his bat and his gloves. Before they started Collier insisted
on tossing to see who should have first ball, and when he won Lambert
said it was of no consequence as he had always meant to have the first
ball. The Burtington XI. waited patiently, and threw catches to each
other with extraordinary violence, but although Mr. Plumb had announced
that Higgs would begin the bowling, the terror of the neighbourhood had
not allowed us to see how fast he bowled. There was an air of mystery
about Higgs, which the nine of us who were not at the wickets found
very entertaining, though Dennison, who was in next, looked anxious.
When our batsmen had got to the wickets it seemed as if the game would
never begin, for Lambert took guard three times and looked round the
ground so often to see where the fielders were placed that two or three
of the Burtington men from sheer weariness began to turn somersaults.
Higgs stood with the ball in his hand and talked to Collier, he knew
that he was a great man and was quite unmoved by Lambert's little
tricks. At last there was no excuse for waiting any longer, and the
umpire, after Lambert had refused to have a trial ball, which I suppose
he thought would have been an undignified thing for him to do, called
"Play." The mystery was solved immediately, Higgs bowled very fast
underhand, the kind of ball which is correctly termed a "sneak," but
unfortunately for Lambert the first one was straight and his bat was
still in the air when his middle stump was knocked to the ground. The
Burtington XI. seemed to me to take this beginning as a
matter-of-course, and started throwing catches to each other without
even troubling to applaud Higgs. Lambert walked very slowly from the
wickets, and when he got back to us he was smiling in his most
magnificently contemptuous manner.
"I thought you asked me to play cricket," he said to Bagshaw. "I keep
a special bat for that sort of bowling, and I did not want to smash
this one."
He sat down on the grass, but we were all so suffocated by laughter
that none of us could condole with him, and if any one had ventured to
say "Bad luck," I am sure Lambert would have treated him with scorn.
Dennison had two balls which did not bowl him, but Higgs made no
mistake with the next one, and the Burlington men played catch once
more. In the end we managed to make 33, though hardly any of the runs
were made off Higgs, and twelve of them came from two balls which were
lost quite close to the wickets. Nine of the Burtington men made 18
runs, for Collier bowled very straight until he got hopelessly out of
breath, and then Bagshaw, who laughed all the time Collier was bowling,
would not take him off, though the wretched man was panting like a
grampus. "This last fellow is sure to be a 'sitter,'" Bagshaw said,
"here is Collier's chance to bowl right through an innings, I don't
suppose he has ever done it before."
But Collier, who was searching after breath and not troubling about
records, was indignant with Bagshaw, and when Lambert, who said that
the sun was in his eyes, missed two catches off consecutive balls,
Collier said something to him at the end of the over which disturbed
the harmony of our XI. for several minutes. Unfortunately the last
Burtington batsman was more of a wag than a "sitter," he was the funny
man of the team, and was so delighted with his own wit that Bagshaw
said it would be a shame not to let him enjoy himself.
"Every village team has its funny man," he said, "and we are jolly
lucky to get him in last." I am sure Bagshaw was what is called a good
sportsman, but he was too kind to be a good captain. I thought Sam
Jenks was a harmless idiot when he came in with only one pad, and that
on the wrong leg, but by the time he had fooled us out of eight or nine
runs I was simply sick to death of him. Lambert stated in a loud voice
that it was not cricket, and Collier, who was most completely
disorganized both in body and temper, retorted that if it had been
cricket Lambert would not have been playing; while Sam, who in some
ways was not such an ass as he tried to make out, played the next ball
slowly to Lambert at short leg, and ran down the pitch exhorting him to
throw it at Collier's head as soon as he got hold of it. Possibly this
advice, combined with a natural inability to stoop quickly, made
Lambert even slower than usual in picking up the ball, but when he did
pick it up he threw it violently at the wicket to which Sam was
running. There was some doubt whether he threw at Sam or at the
wickets, but he missed whatever he intended to hit and the ball went
yards away into the long grass, where it remained until four runs had
been made and Burtington had won the match.
Immediately afterwards Sam fell over his wickets in trying to make a
stylish stroke with one leg poised in the air, and an excursion of
Burtingtonians, headed by Mr. Plumb, sallied forth and carried him
shoulder-high to the tent, where he was given much refreshment.
One or two men on our side tried to persuade Bagshaw that there was
plenty of time left to make as many runs as we wanted and to get the
Burtington men out again, but when Mr. Plumb was told what we were
talking about he came out of the tent and joined us. He was inclined
to be elated, and seizing Bagshaw by the arm said he should like to
have a word with him. They walked away from the rest of us, and, as a
friend of Mr. Plumb's, I went with them.
"Cricket is cricket, that's what I say, sir," Mr. Plumb began, and
Bagshaw, whose manners were perfectly splendid, assented without a
smile.
"But in this yer little village there are what the parson calls local
considerations, which I as captain of this team have got to consider."
Bagshaw inquired quite patiently what these considerations were.
"Well, it's like this, I keep The Reindeer, and the parson he's a
teetotaller, not one of those stumping men who think because they drink
nothing nobody else ought to, but what I should call broad-minded for a
man who drinks nothing but water. Now what the parson says to me is
this: 'You give these young gentlemen luncheon for which they pays
half-a-crown ahead, and it's worth it, and my missis drives up in the
pony-cart at five and gives everybody tea.' It's like a bargain, you
understand."
Bagshaw understood most thoroughly and tried to stop the flow of Mr.
Plumb's conversation, but that excellent captain talked on for another
five minutes, until two of our men who knew Bagshaw better than I did,
took upon themselves to walk to the wickets. Then Mr. Plumb began to
collect his men, which seemed to be a difficult matter, and it was
half-past four before we began again. At five o'clock tea was ready
and the game was interrupted for so long that we gave up all thoughts
of winning it, but I heard afterwards from the parson himself that as a
general rule only the batting side had tea and the other XI. had to
take their chance of getting some. I believe we should have won that
match if Mr. Plumb had captained our side, but the Busters were
generally beaten, which possibly accounted for the fact that most of
the villages round Oxford said they were a splendid eleven. No team
which contained Lambert could help being splendid, but as regards
cricket we were the most futile side it is possible to imagine, and
Bagshaw, who was a really good sort, was also exactly the right man to
captain it.
In our second innings Lambert made nine runs, which was not a great
score for a man who said he had been asked to play for his county, but
was unfortunately enough to make him very pleased with himself, and
when he got into that state of mind he was a dangerous man, for he
always wanted to do something which was better left undone. On this
occasion he persuaded Jack Ward that a little dinner at The Reindeer
would be the most sporting way of finishing the evening, and I have
never seen any one support a suggestion more heartily than Mr. Plumb
did this one of Lambert's. He had a couple of beautiful ducklings
waiting to be cooked, some lamb which would be wasted upon any one but
real gentlemen, and some port which would make our hair curl. Collier
listened to this and thought it too good to miss, so he backed up
Lambert, and Ward, who did not seem enthusiastic over the hair-curling
port, said he would stay if I would. There were good reasons why I
should not stay and I mentioned them one by one, but although in the
lump they ought to have been enough to stop me, when mentioned singly
they did not seem to be very important. Ward, however, saw that I did
not want to stay, and he was on the point of chucking up the whole
thing when Dennison said to Mr. Plumb, "You see, some of us are
frightened to death of the dons; it is a fairly rotten state to be in,
because we daren't call our lives our own."
That remark was directed at me, and if I had been sensible I should
have taken no notice of it, but unluckily I am one of those wretched
people who hate to hear that I am frightened of anybody or anything,
and for Dennison to tell Mr. Plumb such silly nonsense made me furious.
Of course I said that I would stay, and I saw Dennison wink at Lambert;
the brute was for ever scoring off me, he had a most unrighteous way of
getting what he wanted.
For some reason or other Bagshaw was always very decent to me, and when
he heard that Ward, Dennison, Collier, Lambert and I were going to
finish the evening at The Reindeer he asked me to come home in the
brake, but that gibe of Dennison's was heavy upon me and I had
determined to stick to my promise and do whatever came my way. I did
not expect that the evening was going to be anything but a rowdy one,
for when Lambert did undertake a thing he went at it most zealously.
First of all he got Ward to wire and ask Bunny Langham to drive over
about ten o'clock and fetch us all back, and then he asked four or five
of the most comical people in the Burtington team to come to The
Reindeer after dinner and help at a smoking concert. All of the
Burtington team came and a number of their friends, in fact I should
think that nearly all the labourers in the village were entertained by
us during the evening. Mr. Plumb began by being very pleased, and the
evening ended in what local newspapers call "harmony," which is the
most polite way of saying that any one sang who liked and that the
discord was something terrible. I sang a solo, the first and last time
I have ever done such a thing, but I was rapturously applauded by an
audience who were more kind and thirsty than critical. My song was
"Tom Bowling," at least Ward said it was more like "Tom Bowling" than
anything else.
At half-past ten Bunny Langham had not come, and by some means or other
it was necessary that we should reach Oxford before twelve o'clock.
Dennison suggested that we should have a "go-as-you-please" contest
back to St. Cuthbert's, but Collier was not disposed to enter for a
race in which he was bound to be last, and told us that if we were
fools enough to go seven miles in an hour and a half, he would trouble
us to rout up some don when we got back to college and say that he had
been taken seriously unwell in Burlington, but hoped to be better in
the morning. A man, who called himself a veterinary surgeon, but was
described by Mr. Plumb as a cow-doctor, said he would give Collier a
certificate of ill-health; I do not remember from what disease he was
supposed to be suffering. The idea, however, of rushing seven miles as
hard as we could was crushed by Lambert, who was in a kind of "coach
and four" mood and very abusive. He secured Mr. Plumb and having
pushed him into a corner stated that he required a pair of horses and a
wagonette, but Mr. Plumb was not in a condition to be addressed in
terms of authority. His sense of importance had been increasing as the
evening went on, and from being a most innocently amusing man he had
become an obstinate and bibulous publican. He would have nothing to
say to Lambert and declared that getting to Oxford was our business and
that we ought to have thought about it before. The best thing to do
with such a man was to leave him to the remorse of the following
morning, but Lambert had an insane desire to talk and, I must admit, a
forcible way of talking. There seemed to be a reasonable chance of a
row, for Mr. Plumb wasn't without supporters who were as tired of us as
we were of them, but Jack Ward managed to get hold of the cow-doctor
and persuaded him to find some vehicle to help us on our way. As soon
as Mr. Plumb heard of this he declared that the cow-doctor was taking
the bread out of his mouth, but Ward told him if that was the case he
ought to have another drink, and after having it he became comatose and
unobstructive.
Finally we started from The Reindeer at eleven o'clock in a light
farm-cart, Ward and Dennison sitting on the seat with the driver, while
Collier, Lambert and I sat on the floor of the conveyance. Lambert,
when not singing Bacchanalian songs, complained of the indignity and
discomfort of this performance, but I, having taken the precaution of
propping myself against Collier, who was accustomed to being used as a
cushion and very kind about it, was more sleepy than uncomfortable.
Besides, men who begin to think of being dignified towards midnight are
a nuisance, so I told Lambert he was a speechless idiot, which
statement I found to be positively untrue.
We had reached the outskirts of Oxford, and even Lambert had passed
from the state of song and abuse to that of sleep, when the cart was
drawn up with such a jerk that my head collided with Collier's, and I
heard Ward say--
"Why, Bunny, what the blazes are you doing here at this time of night?"
and Bunny answered with no unnecessary length, "Walking."
"But why?" Ward said.
"Exercise. Any room for another pig in the bottom of that cart?"
"Jump up, quick," Ward answered, "it is a quarter to twelve, and jolly
lucky there is a moon or I should have missed you."
Bunny said that he was not going to hurry for any one, and wasted two
or three valuable minutes before we got him safely into the cart. He
was in an exceedingly bad temper, and it was only by dint of
innumerable questions that we found that he had actually started to
drive to Burtington and that something disastrous had happened on the
journey. The exact nature of that disaster none of us ever discovered,
but what Bunny wished us to believe was that he went to sleep and was
driven into by a furniture van, and since he had been kind enough to
start to Burtington we should have been a complete set of bounders if
we had not suppressed Dennison when he said that no one was likely to
believe such a tale as that. Anybody with a grain of decency could see
that Bunny had been having a very bad time, and though we all thanked
him tremendously when we got out at St. Cuthbert's, and told the driver
to take him on to Christchurch as fast as he could, he just sat in the
bottom of the cart and said nothing.
"I am afraid Bunny's ill," Ward said to me as soon as we got into
college, and we blamed ourselves for not seeing him to "The House,"
though had we done so we could not have got back to St. Cuthbert's
until a quarter-past twelve.
On the following morning Ward went round to see Bunny and found him
drinking beer with his breakfast, which was a thing he never dared to
do unless he felt aggressively well. Ward lunched with me and said
that Bunny was all right except that his feelings were in a state of
disorder.
"There is only one thing he is conceited about and that is his
driving," Ward explained, "and last night he was driving a cob which a
baby in arms could steer. Well, Bunny got upset, and is so ashamed of
himself that he is angry with everybody else. He will be all right by
dinner-time if he is left alone."