"Certainly; I thought he tripped me, but he has written me and said how
sorry he was for my accident, so, of course, it rests there."
"Candidly, Aspinall, have you any doubt yourself?"
"No, old fellow. I'm sorry, but I really think he tripped me. He was riled
at a little hustling from Shannon's lot, and I may have upset him myself
occasionally. But it is a small matter."
I looked at the bandages across his cheek, and I didn't think it small.
"But, Aspinall, even if we leave you out of the business, it isn't a small
matter for us, especially for Bourne."
"Well, no; hardly for you," he admitted. "'Twas a piece of sheer bad form.
It shouldn't be done at our place at all."
"If you were in Bourne's place would you bar him his place in the eleven?"
Aspinall considered a full minute.
"On the whole, I think I should--at least, for one term; but I'd most
certainly let him know why he was not to have his cap--privately, of
course. I should not like it to get about, and I do not fancy Acton will
say much about it."
That night Bourne and I crossed over to Biffen's, and waylaid Acton in his
den. I'm pretty sure there wasn't another room like his in the whole
school. No end of swell pictures--foreign mostly; lovely little books,
which, I believe, were foreign also; an etching of his own place up in
Yorkshire; carpets, and rugs, and little statuettes--swagger through and
through; a little too much so, I believe, for the rules, but Biffen
evidently had not put his foot down.
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