“This boy Coles is almost the only chap who has spoken to me decently, and he says that, although at the moment the school is solid for Rouse, he believes that in about a fortnight’s time they will begin to grow tired of being without school rugger and that their present enthusiasm will wane. He says that that will be my chance. If I can step into the breach then I shall probably get a few boys to join me in starting a First Fifteen again—just a few at first—but by degrees more and more will turn and side with me. He says that if I play my cards well we shall have a proper school team again by half-term, and that only Rouse and his closest friends will be missing from it.”
The Head fixed him with a penetrating glance.
“That is this boy’s honest belief?”
Roe nodded his head.
“It’s mine too,” said the Head cleverly.
“There’s one other thing,” continued the son. “Smythe, as I tell you, has resigned. There’s no school secretary. I shall have to have one because I shan’t know the chaps. Coles pointed that out. He said I should need someone to tell me whom to give colours to and all that. He says that at present it might be unwise for his name to be mentioned, but that as soon as things have settled down a bit and the fellows have got used to the idea that I’ve come, and that I mean to stop, they may decide to make the best of it, and then he——”
The Head made a sudden noise of keen satisfaction. He nodded his head briskly.
“Quite,” said he, “quite. I take his point. You think now that he—he is already a member of the school team, you say?—he is a capable footballer?”
“Oh yes, he is one of the most senior players here.”
“You think he would be willing to become the secretary?”