“I came to see you about crew work, Taylor,” he began. “In the first place we need you in the boat; in the second place we’ve got to have you.”
“My dear chap——” began Taylor in bored tones.
“No, wait a minute,” interrupted Dick. “Let me have my say. You’ve left us in a hole. It would have been better if you hadn’t started training at all; better than letting me think you were going to row and then backing down in this way; as I say, it leaves us in a hole. Besides that, it’s not—not patriotic. You know what a hard time we’ve got ahead of us; you know that we’ve got to have good material if we are to win out from St. Eustace; and you know that when you cut rowing you’re doing about all in your power to get us beaten.”
Taylor flushed angrily.
“That’s tommyrot!”
“No, it isn’t; it’s the truth; you know it is, Taylor. And you know very well that if the fellows learned it you couldn’t stay here.”
“Well, on my word!” ejaculated Taylor; “you’ve got a lot of cheek to sit there and—and throw insults at me. You must be crazy!”
“I don’t think so; and I’m not insulting you, at least not intentionally. But I am telling what’s so. You’ve taken about the meanest course in the matter you could, and all the school would say so if they knew.”