"There, Stepper," said Honor, tensely, "that's Gridley—the tallest one,—see? Last on the right?"
"So, that's the boy with the beamish boot, eh?"
"Yes. He mustn't get a chance. He mustn't."
Miss Bruce-Drummond looked at her friend's stepdaughter. "You're frightfully keen about it, aren't you?"
"Yes," said Honor, briefly.
"I daresay I shall find it very different from Rugby, but I expect I shall be able to follow it if you'll explain a bit."
Honor did not answer. She was standing up, yelling with all the strength of her lusty young lungs, as the Southern champions came out. Then the rooting section made everything that they had said and done before seem like a lullaby; it seemed to the Englishwoman she had never known there could be such noise. Her head hummed with it:
King! King! King!
K-I-N-G, King!
G-I-N-K, Gink!