Whatever did it mean? Acton
smiled good-naturedly at the school as they cheered him to the echo, and
hurried unconcernedly along. The others of the eleven came out dejectedly,
and filed up the hill in gloomy little groups. The whole school waited for
Phil, and when he came out, pale and worried, they received him in icy
silence. As he was coming down the steps one of Biffen's fags shouted
shrilly, "Three cheers for Acton!"
Phil stalked through the shouting school, and as I joined him and we
walked up together, he said, through his clenched teeth--
"I wish, old man, I had never seen that brute."
That evening Bourne wrote to Worcester offering him the remaining cap.
Worcester flew across to Acton's room, and said, "Bourne has offered me
the place--the last cap. He must be stark, staring mad!"
"Take it," said Acton, coolly.
"No fear," said Worcester. "We have a stupid kind of prejudice here for
having the best eleven we can get, and it isn't the best if you're out of
it. Bourne has always been a most impartial fellow up to this date, so
this little occurrence has thrown us off the rails. Before I go to
protest, though, have you any idea what is the matter?"
"He does not consider me fit for the eleven," said Acton with a light
laugh, but also with perfect truth.
"Rot!" said Dick, hurrying away.
He hunted up the other nine fellows, and said bluntly his business.
"I vote we all protest to Bourne. A round robin should meet the case.
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