“Well, I dare say I’m quick, but I make lots of mistakes, you know,” laughed Tony, pleased with the compliment, especially coming from a boy who never paid them.
“They don’t seem to count for much then,” was Clavering’s reply. He forgot that one of Tony’s mistakes accounted for himself rather than Tony being the Head of the School.
“That is more comforting as a general proposition than as an afterthought,” said Tony ambiguously, and turned the subject of conversation to football.
In this field Clavering seemed an expert. And such indeed he proved himself again on the gridiron that fall, for Deal turned out one of the best teams that Jack Stenton could remember, and that was paying it very high praise. They won all their games, including the one with Boxford by a score of 24 to 0, which was the largest on record. Clavering was a tower of strength to the team, and Tony, who had lost nothing of his fleetness, again distinguished himself by some brilliant, if not quite such dramatic runs as twice before he had made.
Before the boys realized it the football season was over, and the Sixth Form were looking forward to their last Christmas vacation of school days. This time Tony took Jimmie Lawrence to Low Deering with him, and had the keen pleasure of initiating his best friend into all the associations and delights of his home and country.
The Deering fortunes were in better shape, particularly as Victor had kept his promise, and was devoting himself with industrious zeal to the plantation. The old general took a great fancy to Jimmie, particularly he found a bond between him and the boy in mutual literary tastes. The old man could not lead a very intellectual life, but he reverenced it and longed for it. The promise of Jimmie’s appreciation and powers was to him peculiarly delightful. The boys had a capital vacation, so that they were sorry when it came to an end and they were back at Deal again for the long winter term.
Since his confession Finch avoided Deering. He felt self-conscious about his sentimental outbreak against being “thrown over.” Tony certainly had not thrown him over, but he did not see his way to be with Finch anything more than persistently patient and kind. Only once afterward was the subject of their conversation of the night of the faculty-meeting reopened.
“Of course, Jake,” Tony said, “you see, just as well as I do, how absolutely wrong your actions were. I am going to leave it entirely to you to set yourself right with Wilson—right to the extent, at least, of letting him know that you are sorry. He has been mighty decent to keep quiet.”
“Oh, he hasn’t kept quiet,” Finch rejoined sullenly. “Most of your crowd—of his crowd, anyway, know more or less about it. I have seen that all along.”
“Well, perhaps they do; I have not heard them speak of it anyway. Kit can’t have told it very generally, or I would have heard.”