The most immediate effect of telling anybody not to do a thing is tomake him do it, in order to assert his independence. Trevor's first acton receipt of the letter was to include Barry in the team against theTown. It was what he would have done in any case, but, under thecircumstances, he felt a peculiar pleasure in doing it. The incidentalso had the effect of recalling to his mind the fact that he had triedBarry in the first instance on his own responsibility, withoutconsulting the committee. The committee of the first fifteen consistedof the two old colours who came immediately after the captain on thelist. The powers of a committee varied according to the determinationand truculence of the members of it. On any definite and importantstep, affecting the welfare of the fifteen, the captain theoreticallycould not move without their approval. But if the captain happened tobe strong-minded and the committee weak, they were apt to be slightlyout of it, and the captain would develop a habit of consulting them aday or so after he had done a thing. He would give a man his colours,and inform the committee of it on the following afternoon, when thething was done and could not be repealed.
Trevor was accustomed to ask the advice of his lieutenants fairlyfrequently. He never gave colours, for instance, off his own bat. Itseemed to him that it might be as well to learn what views Milton andAllardyce had on the subject of Barry, and, after the Town team hadgone back across the river, defeated by a goal and a try to nil, hechanged and went over to Seymour's to interview Milton.
Milton was in an arm-chair, watching Renford brew tea. His was one ofthe few studies in the school in which there was an arm-chair. With themajority of his contemporaries, it would only run to the portable kindthat fold up.
"Come and have some tea, Trevor," said Milton.
"Thanks. If there's any going.""Heaps. Is there anything to eat, Renford?"The fag, appealed to on this important point, pondered darkly for amoment.
"There _was_ some cake," he said.
"That's all right," interrupted Milton, cheerfully. "Scratch the cake.
I ate it before the match. Isn't there anything else?"Milton had a healthy appetite.
"Then there used to be some biscuits.""Biscuits are off. I finished 'em yesterday. Look here, young Renford,what you'd better do is cut across to the shop and get some more cakeand some more biscuits, and tell 'em to put it down to me. And don't belong.""A miles better idea would be to send him over to Donaldson's to fetchsomething from my study," suggested Trevor. "It isn't nearly so far,and I've got heaps of stuff.""Ripping. Cut over to Donaldson's, young Renford. As a matter of fact,"he added, confidentially, when the emissary had vanished, "I'm not halfsure that the other dodge would have worked. They seem to think at theshop that I've had about enough things on tick lately. I haven'tsettled up for last term yet. I've spent all I've got on this study.
What do you think of those photographs?"Trevor got up and inspected them. They filled the mantelpiece and mostof the wall above it. They were exclusively theatrical photographs, andof a variety to suit all tastes. For the earnest student of the dramathere was Sir Henry Irving in _The Bells_, and Mr Martin Harvey in_The Only Way._ For the admirers of the merely beautiful therewere Messrs Dan Leno and Herbert Campbell.
"Not bad," said Trevor. "Beastly waste of money.""Waste of money!" Milton was surprised and pained at the criticism.
"Why, you must spend your money on _something."_"Rot, I call it," said Trevor. "If you want to collect something, whydon't you collect something worth having?"Just then Renford came back with the supplies.
"Thanks," said Milton, "put 'em down. Does the billy boil, youngRenford?"Renford asked for explanatory notes.
"You're a bit of an ass at times, aren't you?" said Milton, kindly.
"What I meant was, is the tea ready? If it is, you can scoot. If itisn't, buck up with it."A sound of bubbling and a rush of steam from the spout of the kettleproclaimed that the billy did boil. Renford extinguished the Etna, andleft the room, while Milton, murmuring vague formulae about "onespoonful for each person and one for the pot", got out of his chairwith a groan--for the Town match had been an energetic one--and beganto prepare tea.
"What I really came round about--" began Trevor.
"Half a second. I can't find the milk."He went to the door, and shouted for Renford. On that overworkedyouth's appearance, the following dialogue took place.
"Where's the milk?""What milk?""My milk.""There isn't any." This in a tone not untinged with triumph, as if thespeaker realised that here was a distinct score to him.
"No milk?""No.""Why not?""You never had any.""Well, just cut across--no, half a second. What are you doingdownstairs?""Having tea.""Then you've got milk.""Only a little." This apprehensively.
"Bring it up. You can have what we leave."Disgusted retirement of Master Renford.
"What I really came about," said Trevor again, "was business.""Colours?" inquired Milton, rummaging in the tin for biscuits withsugar on them. "Good brand of biscuit you keep, Trevor.""Yes. I think we might give Alexander and Parker their third.""All right. Any others?""Barry his second, do you think?""Rather. He played a good game today. He's an improvement onRand-Brown.""Glad you think so. I was wondering whether it was the right thing todo, chucking Rand-Brown out after one trial like that. But still, ifyou think Barry's better--""Streets better. I've had heaps of chances of watching them andcomparing them, when they've been playing for the house. It isn't onlythat Rand-Brown can't tackle, and Barry can. Barry takes his passesmuch better, and doesn't lose his head when he's pressed.""Just what I thought," said Trevor. "Then you'd go on playing him forthe first?""Rather. He'll get better every game, you'll see, as he gets more usedto playing in the first three-quarter line. And he's as keen asanything on getting into the team. Practises taking passes and thatsort of thing every day.""Well, he'll get his colours if we lick Ripton.""We ought to lick them. They've lost one of their forwards, Clifford, ared-haired chap, who was good out of touch. I don't know if youremember him.""I suppose I ought to go and see Allardyce about these colours, now.
Good-bye."There was running and passing on the Monday for every one in the threeteams. Trevor and Clowes met Mr Seymour as they were returning. MrSeymour was the football master at Wrykyn.
"I see you've given Barry his second, Trevor.""Yes, sir.""I think you're wise to play him for the first. He knows the game,which is the great thing, and he will improve with practice," said MrSeymour, thus corroborating Milton's words of the previous Saturday.
"I'm glad Seymour thinks Barry good," said Trevor, as they walked on.
"I shall go on playing him now.""Found out who wrote that letter yet?"Trevor laughed.
"Not yet," he said.
"Probably Rand-Brown," suggested Clowes. "He's the man who would gainmost by Barry's not playing. I hear he had a row with Mill just beforehis study was ragged.""Everybody in Seymour's has had rows with Mill some time or other,"said Trevor.
Clowes stopped at the door of the junior day-room to find his fag.
Trevor went on upstairs. In the passage he met Ruthven.
Ruthven seemed excited.
"I say. Trevor," he exclaimed, "have you seen your study?""Why, what's the matter with it?""You'd better go and look."
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