“Well, he took a lot of us over on the other side of the tennis courts and made us do the most astonishing things, do you know? We’d chuck the ball around, one to another, and then when someone would drop it, you know, instead of picking it up he’d have to fall over on the wobbly thing!” He rubbed his knee again. “I had to do it myself a number of times. A bit awkward I felt, too. The silly ball had a way of not being there when you dropped down for it. And this chap Hanrihan was most awfully impatient with us, do you know? Some of the things he said were quite rude. I fancy he didn’t mean anything, though. I dare say we were a bit trying. There was a fat Johnnie with us who was always trying to catch the ball in his mouth and, of course, his mouth wasn’t big enough. Hannigan—I should say Hanrihan—told me he was a tub of butter. Queer thing to call him, I think. I wondered why a tub of butter. Because he was fat, eh?”
“Yes. You mustn’t mind what they say to you, Hugh. It’s part of the game.”
“I didn’t. Of course, I understood that. Then he had us line up and start off when he rolled the ball and run like a ballywhack. But you’ve been through with all that, eh?”
“Yes. Not just what you expected, then?”
“Well, I’ll tell you, Bert. You see, on the other side we don’t practise quite that way. I mean we—well, we don’t—aren’t so serious about it, if you know what I mean. Take rugger, for instance——”
“I beg your pardon?” interrupted Bert, puzzled.
“Eh? Oh, rugger—Rugby, you know. We rather make play of it. Of course, we do practise, but not the way you American—I should say we American—chaps do. But I dare say it isn’t so hard when you’ve learned a bit, eh?”
“I’m afraid it is,” replied Bert. “The more you know and the better player you are the harder grind you have to go through. If you make the School Team you work like a slave for a good six weeks.”
“Really? But what for?”
“Why to beat Mount Morris, of course. And any others we can before that.”