"You understand, Jukes?" said the chairman.
No reply.
"Arper here is the man we sent for. Arper"—the impressiveness of Mr. Higginbottom was very carefully calculated—"you've no polish, me lad, you lack experience, you are young, you've got to grow and you've got to learn, but you might make a goalkeeper if you was took in hand by the Rovers. Understand me, Arper,"—the chairman raised an eloquent forefinger—"I say ye might if you was took in hand an' trained by a club o' the class o' the Rovers. But you've a long way to go. Do you understand, me lad?"
"Yes, mister," said the Sailor humbly.
The "mister" jarred horribly upon the sensitive ear of Mr. W. H. Jukes, who whispered, "Call him 'sir,' yer fool."
"Very well, then," proceeded Mr. Augustus Higginbottom, "now we'll come to business. My feller directors"—the chairman waved a magniloquent hand—"agrees with me that the Rovers can offer you a pound a week because you are promisin', although not justified as you are at present. Now what do you say?"
"Nothin' doin'," said Mr. W. H. Jukes, before the goalkeeper could say anything. "Come on, Sailor boy. We are wastin' our time. We'll be gettin' to the station."
"My remarks, Jukes, was not addressed to you," said the chairman with awful dignity. "The directors has no use for your services, as I thought I 'ad made clear."
"I'm sorry, sir," said Ginger, with a considered politeness that seemed rather to surprise the committee. "Come on, Sailor. A quid a week! I think we can do better nor that."
"One moment," said Mr. Augustus Higginbottom. There was a hurried consultation while Ginger and the goalkeeper began to move to the door. "One moment, Arper."