"We'll see about that, too," said Acton. "As for the niggers—"
"Oh, never mind them!" burst in Worcester. "Without humbug, Acton, do you really want our house to move a bit?"
"Rather!"
"Well, then, consent to captain our footer eleven and we give ourselves a chance, for I can't make the fellows raise a gallop at any price, and I somehow think you can. Have a try. If you are sick of it at Christmas, I'll come in again; honour bright. It isn't too good-natured of me to ask you to pull Biffen's out of the mud, but you're the only fellow to do it if it can be done. Will you?"
"You wouldn't mind resigning?"
"By Jove, no!" said Worcester, precipitately.
"Don't mention it. Not at all, old man, not at all."
"Well, I've been thinking that, if you didn't mind, I'd like to try my hand on our crowd; though, since you don't move 'em, there can't be much chance for me to do anything smart."
"That doesn't follow, for you aren't me, old man."
"Then I'll have a shot at it."