The slender, handsome boy, looking rather fine-drawn, but with something of the turn of limb of a thoroughbred racehorse, came into the goal and was duly greeted by his admirers.
"'E plays for England," proclaimed one of these.
"I don't think," said a Visigoth with a mouth-organ.
"Play up, Dink!"
The great Dinkie, side-stepping with the loose-limbed elegance of a ragtime dancer, looked as smart as paint.
"There's not a better inside left playing footba'," said another enthusiast, looking round for contradiction.
"I don't think," said a Visigoth with a rattle.
"Play up, Ginger!"
Ginger, with head of flame, looking more bow-legged, prick-eared and pugnacious than ever, was a veritable pocket edition of the "Fighting Temeraire."
"'E's a daisy, ain't 'e?" said the enthusiast.