are not wanted at these

"Thanks awfully," said Bob, with equal awkwardness. Trevor moved on,delicately. This was no place for him. Bob's face was looking like astuffed frog's, which was Bob's way of trying to appear unconcernedand at his ease, while Mike seemed as if at any moment he might burstinto tears. Spectators are not wanted at these awkward interviews. 　　There was a short silence. 　　"Jolly glad you've got it," said Mike. 　　"I believe there's a mistake. I swear I heard Burgess say to Spence----""He changed his mind probably. No reason why he shouldn't.""Well, it's jolly rummy."Bob endeavoured to find consolation. 　　"Anyhow, you'll have three years in the first. You're a cert. for nextyear.""Hope so," said Mike, with such manifest lack of enthusiasm that Bobabandoned this line of argument. When one has missed one's colours,next year seems a very, very long way off. 　　They moved slowly through the cloisters, neither speaking, and up thestairs that led to the Great Hall. Each was gratefully conscious ofthe fact that prayers would be beginning in another minute, putting anend to an uncomfortable situation. 　　"Heard from home lately?" inquired Mike. 　　Bob snatched gladly at the subject. 　　"Got a letter from mother this morning. I showed you the last one,didn't I? I've only just had time to skim through this one, as thepost was late, and I only got it just as I was going to dash across toschool. Not much in it. Here it is, if you want to read it.""Thanks. It'll be something to do during Math.""Marjory wrote, too, for the first time in her life. Haven't had timeto look at it yet.""After you. Sure it isn't meant for me? She owes me a letter.""No, it's for me all right. I'll give it you in the interval."The arrival of the headmaster put an end to the conversation. 　　* * * * *By a quarter to eleven Mike had begun to grow reconciled to his fate.