“There’s only one other old colour who’s in the Sixth,” said he. “Coles. So I’ll propose him.”
He sat down as if he had done a piece of useful work by thoroughly clearing the decks for real debate. What followed, therefore, came as a very painful surprise to him. Others were merely disgusted. He was honestly hurt. To suppose that he had spoken seriously was the most insulting thought anyone could have had of him.
Coles had arisen and could be seen looking earnestly upon them. His voice was unmistakably clear though he spoke quietly, and he made one modest gesture with his hand. He had not so much as waited to see the result of the proposal, had not given anyone even a chance to second it.
“If it’s for the good of the school,” said he, “of course I’ll do my best.... It’s just as you like. Whatever seems right to you fellows....” There was a cutting silence; not so much as a movement helped him. He remained standing. He looked round hopefully. “Whatever Mr Nicholson thinks best,” said he. “If you propose me—I’ll certainly——”
At last somebody spoke. It was difficult to identify the gentleman, but from the murmur of approval that followed it was clear that he voiced the opinion of all those present.
The voice said: “Sit down, you ass.”
With a sudden flush of acute self-consciousness Coles disappeared from view.
Then there rose up one other spokesman.
It was the captain of the school. He brought a touch of dignity into the atmosphere that was not unwelcome.
“Well, I’ve listened to what’s been said,” he told them, “and it hasn’t taken me long to form my opinion. I’m no footer man—but I’ve got the interests of the school as much at heart as any of you. And I know Rouse. I’m no fighting man either. I like peace and quiet. Arguments I can’t bear. But I’m afraid a fight and an argument will have to come. The soundest proposal made has been Smythe’s. He says we refuse to accept Rouse’s resignation, and I think you’d like the Head to know that as captain of the school I second that.”