Christopher Woolf Roe was painfully surprised. He had arrived at Harley by a train previously notified to his father in bold and legible handwriting and not a soul had met him. He had not exactly expected an ornamental awning over the station exit, but he had presumed that somebody of standing in the school would have been waiting upon the platform keenly peering into the carriages as the train came in; somebody who would escort him to the school and introduce him to its leading lights, who would converse with him amiably as they went along the highroad, congratulating him repeatedly upon his delightful father. There had, as a matter of fact, been a suggestion made that he should be received by a comb-and-paper band comprised of school prefects who would march funereally in front of him all the way from the station to the school, but word from Terence Nicholson had gone forth that this would not be in keeping with school dignity.
Hence he had come unwelcomed and unsung.
Arrived at the school, he had sought out his father. His father had been out. This had put the finishing touch to his complete depression. So far, all he knew was that, according to his father’s letter, circumstances had arisen which made it advisable that he should come to Harley. Another letter to the new Head of Wilton had intimated, possibly in more detail, that he should do so as soon as possible, 128and this had turned out to be in three days’ time. But as to the real why and wherefore, and as to what the circumstances were he was still completely in the dark.
He sought for aid.
The school porter fetched the bursar, who told him that he would be in Seymour’s house, and who coldly pointed out the way to him with a pencil. Here another porter had shown him to a vacant study. On the way there he had, of course, passed any number of boys. Not one solitary soul amongst them, from the oldest to the youngest, had paid the slightest attention to him. He might have been invisible.
Two hours later he had seen his father and he understood.
“The secretary,” Dr Roe had told him, “is a boy called Smythe.”
He sought Smythe out.
Smythe was sitting in his study hidden behind a book, and his first impression when, having said “Come in,” he peered over the top of his volume to see who came, was that a stray pig was nosing into the room, and he rose with a sweeping gesture intending to drive it out. But as seconds passed he was held spellbound. Behind the snout, which was all he had first seen, and to either side of it, appeared two little pig-like eyes. He also perceived two pouting lips. Finally, when the head came properly into view around the door, Smythe became alarmed.
“Come in!” he commanded angrily. “Come in, man!”
The visitor entered slowly, with short steps, and when he was approximately in the centre of the room he halted.
“I’m Roe,” he observed.
Smythe withstood the shock with the greatest 129gallantry. All the same, he did not extend his hand in a warm welcome. He just looked.
“I understand,” observed the other, “that I am to be captain of football here, and that you are secretary.”
He had pointed at Smythe accusingly and now he beamed.
Smythe hastened to correct him.
“A few days ago I was,” said he; “but I have just completed my duties, and now I have resigned. So far as I know there is no footer secretary in this school at present.”
“No secretary! But why not?”
“Because,” said Smythe logically enough, “there is no football.”
“But surely——” said the other. “Why ... I’m captain of football.”
“I believe you are,” responded Smythe; “but my last duty was to scratch the whole of our fixtures for the season.”
Roe was visibly shaken.
“Of course,” added Smythe presently, “it’s a rotten position for you.”
“No, no,” replied the new boy. “I don’t mind a bit. We must arrange some more fixtures now that I’ve come.”
For a moment Smythe stared at him. Then he turned, reached for his book, sat down and commenced to read.
“I must make some notices out,” said Roe. “You must introduce me to the team.”
He waited hopefully for an answer. Smythe merely turned over a page.
“Of course,” continued Roe, “when I first heard about this I was only told that circumstances had arisen which made it desirable that I should leave Wilton.”
Smythe looked up.
130“Well, I can tell you now,” said he, “that the circumstances which have arisen make it very desirable that you should go back to Wilton as speedily as you came.”
“You mean to say, then, that there isn’t going to be any football at all?”
“There will be house games only—under the control of the games master—a matter of arrangement between the captains of the houses. There will be no football which will require the services of a school captain—no school matches. And I have resigned.” He paused. “I commend that example to you,” he observed.
Next moment he was deep in his book again.
Roe looked miserably round the study.
“Why did he fetch me from Wilton then?”
“Goodness only knows! It may be that he wanted you to see the country.”
“But,” said Roe, “this is all rot. I’ve got definite instructions from my father. He told me distinctly that I——”
“You go back to him,” said Smythe, “and make sure that you heard him correctly. Tell him what you’ve found out. And if I were you I should ask him whether you can’t go back.” He moved across the room and opened the door. “This is the way out,” said he.
That evening Smythe recounted this incident to Rouse.
“I also have seen the man,” was the answer. “I made a point of it. I went up to him and I said: ‘Bless me, I seem to know your face. Yet you haven’t been at this school so long, surely?’ He said: ‘I came to-day. My name is Roe.’ I pounced up............