“Yes,” said Toby mildly; “and a very good captain too. He’s one of the most popular boys in the school.”
The Head was somewhat taken aback.
“Well, at all events,” said he, “I don’t remember noticing him in the Sixth Form.”
It was an awkward point. Toby moved slightly upon his feet. He was not going to confess that Rouse was one of the school’s pet dunces.
“He’s not in the Sixth Form yet,” said he.
The Head clapped his hands and sprang nimbly from one foot to the other.
“Then,” said he, “how can he be captain of football if he’s not even a prefect?”
“He is a prefect. The late Headmaster specially wished him to be. He knew that he would be captain of football this term, and he considered it would be a very good thing indeed for the boy’s character. Of course the captain of each sport here is a prefect ex officio, whether he’s in the Sixth or not, and the Head wished him to have a full term as a prefect before he became captain of Rugger.”
The Head considered this point with a portentous frown, and at last he looked up at Toby and said:
“I think you had better know at once that those are not my principles. To my mind the boy who leads the school team on to the field of play should be the boy who is captain of the school, and if by any chance he himself is not a very keen footballer, then the next senior boy should take his place. Boys have to be made to learn that being able to kick a football in a certain direction with a certain force is not everything in life. And they learn that best if they find that a boy is not allowed to be captain of football unless he is also one of the most senior boys in the Sixth Form.”