“A foolish rule, I call it,” said Switzer abruptly to Kathleen, “and you can't enforce it anyway. Who can tell the personality of a team ten, twenty or fifty miles away?”
“I fancy they can tell themselves,” said Jack Romayne. “Their Captain can certify to his men.”
“Aha!” laughed Switzer. “That's good. The Captain, I suppose, is keen to win. Do you think he would keep a man off his team who is his best player, and who may bring him the game?” Switzer's face was full of scorn.
“I take it they are gentlemen,” was Romayne's quiet rejoinder.
“Of course, Mr. Romayne,” said Mrs. Gwynne. “That gets rid of all the difficulty. Otherwise it seems to me that all the pleasure would be gone from the contest, the essential condition of which is keeping to the rules.”
“Good for you, Mother. You're a real sport,” said Larry.
“Besides,” replied his mother, “we have Scripture for it. You remember what it says? 'If a man strive for masteries yet is he not crowned except he strive lawfully.' 'Except he strive lawfully,' you see. The crown he might otherwise win would bring neither honour nor pleasure.”
“Good again, Mother. You ought to have a place on the League committee. We shall have that Scripture entered on the rules. But I must run and dress. Farwell, you can take charge of Duckworth.”
But Duckworth was uneasy to be gone. “If you will excuse me, Mrs. Gwynne, I must get my men together.”
“Well, Mr. Duckworth,” said Mrs. Gwynne, smiling on him as she gave him her hand, “I am sorry we cannot wish you a victory, but we can wish you your very best game and an honourable defeat.”