"You're always in one," laughed Bert, interrupting him.
"There's Trendall to help me," continued Masters, scowling at the interrupter.
"A nice way to look at a friendship!" jeered Susanne. "What next?"
"Well, you know," said Masters lamely, "I used to sit within sight of Trendall."
"That's why you warned us that he was such an eater," cried Clive. "He didn't do much this time, anyway."
"It wasn't that I meant. But Trendall's a lucky beggar," said Masters, his eyes opening at the thought of what he'd seen. "Talk about a spread at table! Why, his people sent him a whole turkey last term, a turkey ready cooked, with sausages. I just wanted that turkey. Wish my people'd think sometimes that turkey's good for fellows at Ranleigh."
Everyone, no doubt, have their own way of looking at the same matter. Masters at the moment viewed the addition of Trendall to the Old Firm from the point of view of what he personally would gain. Not that he was really serious. It may be said, in fact, that Masters was above such pettishness. Still, it was true enough that Trendall was first rate at classics, while Masters was an utter duffer. A little help now and again would certainly be an advantage. As for the turkey, well, it was known that Trendall had ripping hampers. Why shouldn't the Old Firm rejoice at their coming?
It may be imagined, too, that this sudden accession of Trendall to the ranks of Susanne and Clive and Company created quite a storm at Ranleigh. That very afternoon they were seen for the first time strolling arm in arm across the ground sloping down in front of the school. They were laughing and chatting as if there had never been such a thing as a disagreement between them. Then they turned into the tuck-shop, and casual visitors there saw and marvelled at Trendall treating fellows to apple tarts and cups of tea or coffee to whom, a couple of months before, they could imagine his administering something far less pleasant. That evening, in Hall, Rawlings saw the members of the Firm gaily signalling to one another, while, as if to make matters worse, there was Trendall seated comfortably between Hugh and Bert Seymour. Rawlings scowled behind his cup. He kicked savagely at the boy opposite when he remarked on this singular friendship which had arisen so unexpectedly. And then he found his attention caught by the entry of the members of the Upper Sixth. They came in in single file. There was Sturton, tall and cool and unconcerned. Stebbins, the fellow next behind him, a strong candidate for the captaincy, looked bored and sullen. Fellows liked him at Ranleigh; but not as they liked Sturton. Then came Bagshaw, "the oyster" as some called him, the poet, the leader writer, pale of face, stooping and delicate, but with flashing eye and jovial smile which were always captivating. You could knock poor Bagshaw down with the greatest ease. A fellow in Middle School could defeat him without the need to remove a coat. And yet Bagshaw was a power in the school, a force there was no denying. The most muscular boy had been known to tremble before him. It was said of Bagshaw that even Mr. Canning felt less assurance when "the oyster" was his opponent at the weekly meetings of the Debating Society.
Slowly, one by one, they filed to their places, while the heads of all at Ranleigh were turned to watch them. And then the figure of the Head suddenly appeared on the dais, with the master of the week beside him.
"Sturton is elected Captain of Ranleigh," he declared, and then disappeared with a discretion there was no denying.