He had arrived. He bent obediently and did as he was bid.
“There you are,” said Rouse happily. “You’ve scored a try.”
Arthur turned and looked round and about. Everywhere boys were throwing caps into the air and cheering. It was a great moment. Toby had come up and seemed to be speaking to him, but in the wild noise of applause he could not distinguish a word. He grinned broadly.
At last the thunder of cheers died down.
“That’s Rugger,” said Toby. “It’s a great game. Don’t you think so? You’ll play it all your life now. That’s your first game and you’ll never forget it.”
He never did. Nobody who learns Rugger at Harley ever does.
The boy who had sat in the corner had been learning Rugger that afternoon too, and as he walked slowly off the field a tall fellow, considerably older than he, came up and touched him on the arm.
“What on earth are you doing here?”
Bobbie Carr looked up, then slowly seemed to remember, and to the other it appeared that he turned a little pale. At first he made no answer. He just looked. Eventually he turned away.