Ginger, drawing the Sailor after him, returned with every sign of reluctance to the middle of the room.
"Jukes," said the chairman, "you have nothing to do with this matter, anyway."
"No, sir," said Ginger, with a deference he was very far from feeling.
"You quite understand that, Jukes?"
"Yes, sir," said Ginger, with formidable politeness.
"Very good. Now, Arper, the directors is prepared to rise to twenty-five shillings a week, an' that's their limit."
"I'm sorry, gentlemen," said Ginger, "but twenty-five bob a week is not a bit o' use to either on us. We like the town what we've seen on it, but two pound a week's our minimum. It's only wastin' time to talk of less. If we ain't worth two pound a week to the Blackhampton Rovers, I dessey we'll be worth it to the Otspur or the Villa. Come on, Sailor. We're only wastin' our time, boy."
This carefully delivered ultimatum made quite a sensation. There was not one of the committee who would not cheerfully have slain Mr. W. H. Jukes. But they wanted that goalkeeper very badly. Moreover, the mention of the Hotspur and the Villa did not lessen this desire.
"One moment, Jukes."
A further consultation followed. This matter called for very masterful and, at the same time, very delicate handling.