When Murray looked at his watch and said that he must be going, I felt quite relieved, and I decided then that I would stop trying to make Murray and Jack like each other, for the process was too painful and slow for me.
After he had gone I told Foster what Ward had been doing, and it was really quite funny to see how confused they were. Fred said how good it was of Ward to have taken so much bother about nothing, which was not quite what he meant, but it did very well; and Ward mumbled something in reply, which neither of us could hear. Altogether they managed it most successfully, and when Fred went away Ward said that he would see him to the lodge. I found out afterwards that he stopped me going with Fred, so that he might tell him nothing would have happened if he had not seen Tom Harrison; he was the kind of man who never tried to get more credit than he deserved, unless it was from Oxford tradesmen.
Playing against Blackheath on the Rectory field before a large crowd of people was good fun, and at the end of the game I thought that I had managed to escape without making a very pitiable exhibition of myself. But on the following Monday the sporting papers criticized me most unpleasantly. "Marten was obviously nervous, and did not seem to settle down until the game was lost." "As full-back Marten had much to learn; his tackling was good, but his kicking left much to be desired, and he seldom found touch." I turned from The Sportsman and Sporting Life to The Daily Telegraph, and found that I had shown "more pluck than judgment."
I felt that Sykes of Merton must be having an enjoyable morning, and even the fact that the critics unanimously praised Foster was of little assistance to me. My chance had come, and I had not taken it; there could not have been a more miserable man in Oxford, and for a whole solid week I never cut a lecture or did anything of which even Mr. Edwardes could disapprove.
Sykes reappeared in the 'Varsity team, and Foster declared that the whole thing was a swindle; but he was more prejudiced in my favour than I was myself. The last match of the term at Oxford, and the one previous to the 'Varsity match, was against the Old Cliburians, and the O. C.s having had a disastrous season Adamson, who always played centre three-quarters with Foster, did not play, but put a man from Queen's in his place. This man, whose name was Pott, had been laid up all the term, and two or three people said it was lucky for Foster that Pott had not been able to play before. I played back for the O. C.s, and the game was enough to make any Cambridge man who saw it stand on his head with delight. The 'Varsity could do nothing right; the passing broke down time after time, and the forwards got impatient and kicked too hard. I thought Foster was the one man on the side who played decently, but five minutes before the end, when we were leading by a goal to nothing, Pott made a very good run and got a try in the corner. It seemed to me that this was the only thing he did during the whole game, and it was my fault that he got the try, for I went for him a second too late and he fell over the line, but the place-kick went crooked, and we won by a goal to a try.
Adamson, who was touch-judging, said what he thought about the 'Varsity team, and he could be the most uncomplimentary man in Europe when he liked. His temper was awful, and it did not seem to be improved by the use of expletives. This game was played on a Saturday, and on the following Wednesday week we had to play the 'Varsity match at Queen's Club. The Cambridge team was published in the papers on the Monday, but some one told me that our committee were not meeting until the Monday evening. This did not interest me much, for apart from wanting to see that Fred had got his blue, and I thought he was a certainty, I did not mind who else was chosen. Sykes had played better against the O. C.s than he had ever done before, and even Fred said that he was afraid my chance had gone for this year.
After dinner on Monday evening I was sitting in my rooms with Murray, and although it was not nine o'clock, I was wondering how soon I could go to bed, when Ward suddenly burst in, fairly bubbling over with excitement. He turned me right out of my chair, and hitting me violently on the back, said he had never been so awfully glad in all his life. My first impression was that he had been made glad by wine, and I told him to clear out if he could not behave himself, which made him catch hold of me and dance me round the room. By the time we had finished I found that Dennison, Collier, Lambert, Webb and a host of other people had come to my rooms, and at last I discovered that I had got my blue. For a moment I did not believe it, but I managed to push Ward into a corner, and told him I would never speak to him again if it was not true. Then he swore that he had seen the names of the XV. to play against Cambridge stuck up in the window of Howell's shop in the Turl, and the first name he saw was G. Marten (St. Cuthbert's), back.
"And Foster, of course?" I said.
Then Jack Ward's face fell. "No, they've gone mad," he answered; "it's that man Potts, of Queen's."
Men buzzed about congratulating me, and one part of me felt most tremendously glad, and the other part most outrageously sorry. I said a lot of things about the committee, and everybody except Ward and Murray thought I had gone mad. The college clock struck nine, and old Tom's nightly warning began to sound over the city. I seized a cap and bolted down-stairs, leaving my rooms full of astonished men. But Fred Foster was the only man I wanted to see, and by making a tremendous rush for Oriel I got there before the gates were closed. I cannot describe how I was feeling that evening, but I knew that Fred was infinitely better at footer than I was, and in my wildest moments I had never imagined that I should be put in the XV. while he was left out of it.