“I mean to say,” said Saville, “that it was your idea that Roe should be allowed to play, and we agreed on the distinct understanding that he wasn’t going to be captain. Now it’s your idea that he should walk in front, and I wonder you don’t want to go and sprinkle roses in front of him as he goes.”
“It’s for the sake of the game, you utter ass! What do I care who goes in front! I want my Rugger.”
“Then you can jolly well have it,” snapped Betteridge. “And you can play it in your own backyard.”
Coles turned towards him, and for one moment he looked as if he could have jumped down and attacked him with his fists. But there came instead a new diversion. Across the steps there swept the shadow of the Head. Then he stood magisterially before them, and finally he singled out Coles.
“What is the delay?” said he. “What are you waiting for?”
Before Coles could answer Saville had stepped forward.
“The match is scratched, sir,” said he. “I am just going out to apologise to Rouse for keeping them waiting so long.”
He ran up the steps and went out into the open. The Head turned and stared after him indignantly. His own intended words had been taken out of his mouth. He had meant only to ascertain without doubt that this scene was on account of his son before himself stepping in and forbidding play. He had been forestalled. Saville was trotting towards the touch-line. The ranks of expectant onlookers opened and let him through. The Head saw Rouse come to meet him, saw him lift his hand and rest it upon Saville’s shoulder, watched them as they spoke. Then Rouse had turned to those nearest to him and explained. The air became very still. Saville had been so clearly the forerunner of sensation. Heads were turned towards the unhappy Roe still standing in splendid isolation on the gravel path, then back to Saville. Finally all eyes settled upon Rouse. He was collecting his team regretfully and there was something in his manner that showed how sorry he was that this had happened. Then Morley’s were walking off the field.
All this the Head watched with set eyes, and at last he turned again to that sullen group at the bottom of the steps, regarded them for a moment, then snapped out his dictum:
“Find Mr Nicholson for me, one of you. Tell him that I wish to speak to him in my study at once.”