Then I had to kiss both of Gladys's elbows to make them well, and finally I had to stand a fusillade of chaff and jeers from the Philosophers, which made life a heavier burden that it was already.
At last, to my joy, the bell rang up for the High Jump under fifteen, and public attention was diverted from my lamentable case.
As everybody who knew anything had anticipated, Langrish won this, metaphorically speaking, "on his head." He knocked out the second man (a Selkirker) at 4 feet and half an inch, and went on gamely 2 inches higher, clearing the bar as prettily and daintily as Wales himself might have done in the open event.

It was not at all certain he could not have gone higher against an opponent; but having no such spur, he grew careless, and after barely shaking down the bar twice at 4 feet 3 inches, kicked it off awkwardly the third time, and so retired an easy victor, and quite overcome by the applause of the now crowded field.
Then came the event of the day--the Open Mile, for which Tempest and Redwood were the only combatants.

I felt myself growing as nervous as if I were running myself.
For my instinct told me that the welfare of Sharpe's more or less hung on the issue.

Could Tempest but win, there would be no doubt that he would return to the headship of the house with an eclat which even Crofter would have to yield to.

If not, Crofter might still hang on to the reins and claim his doubtful rights.
A complication of an unexpected kind arose now.