be grubbing in the hardground

This is a time for the honeyed word, the kindly eye, and the pleasantsmile. Let me explain to Comrade Adair. Speaking for Comrade Jacksonand myself, we should both be delighted to join in the mimic warfareof our National Game, as you suggest, only the fact is, we happen tobe the Young Archaeologists. We gave in our names last night. When youare being carried back to the pavilion after your century againstLoamshire--do you play Loamshire?--we shall be grubbing in the hardground for ruined abbeys. The old choice between Pleasure and Duty,Comrade Adair. A Boy's Cross-Roads.""Then you won't play?""No," said Mike. 　　"Archaeology," said Psmith, with a deprecatory wave of the hand, "willbrook no divided allegiance from her devotees."Adair turned, and walked on. 　　Scarcely had he gone, when another voice hailed them with preciselythe same question. 　　"Both you fellows are going to play cricket, eh?"It was a master. A short, wiry little man with a sharp nose and ageneral resemblance, both in manner and appearance, to an excitablebullfinch. 　　"I saw Adair speaking to you. I suppose you will both play. I likeevery new boy to begin at once. The more new blood we have, thebetter. We want keenness here. We are, above all, a keen school. Iwant every boy to be keen.""We are, sir," said Psmith, with fervour. 　　"Excellent.""On archaeology."Mr. Downing--for it was no less a celebrity--started, as one whoperceives a loathly caterpillar in his salad. 　　"Archaeology!""We gave in our names to Mr. Outwood last night, sir. Archaeology is apassion with us, sir. When we heard that there was a society here, wewent singing about the house.""I call it an unnatural pursuit for boys," said Mr. Downingvehemently. "I don't like it. I tell you I don't like it. It is notfor me to interfere with one of my colleagues on the staff, but I tellyou frankly that in my opinion it is an abominable waste of time for aboy. It gets him into idle, loafing habits.""I never loaf, sir," said Psmith.