“Take you all your time,” said Bevis, shutting his lips tighter and beginning to look a little dangerous. “Shut up,” said Val.
“Stop,” said Phil and Bill and George, pressing in.
“Hush,” said Cecil. “It’s a truce.”
“Well, I won’t be Pompey,” said Ted sullenly. “Then we must have somebody who will,” said Bevis sharply, “and choose again.”
“I wouldn’t mind,” said some one in the crowd. “Nor I,” said another.
“If I was general I wouldn’t mind being Pompey. Let me, Bevis.”
“Who’s that,” said Ted. “If any one says that I’ll smash him.” When he found he could so easily be superseded he surrendered. “Well, I’ll be Pompey,” he said, “but mind I shan’t be beat.”
“Pompey ought to win if he can,” said Val; “that’s only fair.”
“What’s the use of fighting if we are to be beat?” said Phil.
“Of course,” said Bevis, “how very stupid you all are! Of course, Ted is to win if he can; he’s only to be called Pompey to make it proper. I know I shall beat him, but he’s to beat us if he can.”