Toby turned at last to Rouse.
“I don’t often compliment you,” he observed. “At one time I used to cuff your head whenever I could reach it, but I’ll tell you now that even you yourself don’t quite realise what they think of you here. You’re a little tin god. The team will follow you as they’d follow no other fellow I know. They don’t want anyone else, and it’s my idea they won’t have anyone else. The captain of footer has to be elected. That’s constitutional. They’ve elected you. And if the Head doesn’t approve it’s quite possible for the school to try passive resistance.”
“How?”
“What I think is,” said Toby, “that he can search right through the whole school and he won’t find another fellow anywhere who’ll take it on—not under these circumstances.”
“Then he’ll have to give in.”
“He’ll never give in ... he’s the type that never knows where to draw the line ... and he thinks he’s strong. He’ll make himself a dictator. He’ll find some unsuspecting dolt and order him to be captain.”
“Then there’ll be a rebellion,” said Terence again. “The school won’t stand it. They absolutely idolise Rouse.”
Toby spread his hands.
“Think it over,” said he. “Reason it out. I’m going. If he comes to ask you comic questions in form to-morrow morning just keep your head and don’t give anything away. I shan’t see him again to-night. He’s in a bad temper. I’ll wait till after morning school to-morrow. Then I’ll join issue with him after he’s visited your form. And above all,” he added finally, “don’t be downhearted. This turn of events is as bad as it possibly could be, but you aren’t alone. You’re no end of a dunce, Rouse, but you’ve got the school behind you, and there’s comfort in that.”
They watched him go, and when they were left alone Rouse turned to Terence and smiled whimsically.