But still--and I was glad
to see it--the school had faith in Phil; they counted on justice being
done, as it were, in the last laps. No one mentioned a word to him about
the intense curiosity and even anxiety that his odd bestowal of caps had
excited amongst them, for Phil has that way with him that can shut up a
fellow quicker than you can snap a knife if that fellow is travelling out
of bounds.
However, when Place, of Merishall's, came out of the pavilion a full-blown
member of the school eleven there was a scene. The whole body of fellows
now thought that the comedy was pretty nearly becoming a tragedy, and they
showed their feelings unmistakably. Place was cheered by Merishall's, but
not overwhelmingly, and from the other houses there was an ominous
silence. Place, as he trotted out, looked rather puzzled, and a bit
undecided how to take his odd reception, and glanced rather helplessly
round at the sea of faces all turned anxiously towards him. There would be
pretty nearly seven hundred fellows round the pavilion, for there was no
end of excitement.
"Keep up your pecker, Place! You're all right, anyhow!" shouted some one.
The other members came out one by one, and were cheered to the echo, and
at last Phil came out with Hodgson. He was rather pale, but had his back
very straight. There was a dead silence, and, for the first time since he
had been captain, Phil walked down the steps without a friendly cheer. I
think even now the old school behaved itself very well--the fellows were
not behind the scenes, and didn't see more than was before their eyes, but
there was not a single word thrown out at Phil.
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