Forrester was about the only boy he really did not dislike, because Forrester did not care twopence whether any one liked him or not, and he himself was quite fond of Scarfe.
“What do you think the fellows will do?” said the junior, after attempting for the sixth time to “drop” the ball over the goal without success.
“Why, obey, of course,” said Scarfe scornfully.
“Shall you?”
“I suppose so.”
“Why, I thought you were going to stick out.”
“No doubt a lot of the fellows would like it if I did. They always like somebody else to do what they don’t care to do themselves.”
“Well, you and I’ll be on different sides,” said the youngster, making another vain attempt at the goal. “I’m sorry for you, my boy.”
“So am I; I’d like to see the Sixth beaten. But there’s not much chance of it if the kicking’s left to you.”
“I tell you what,” said Forrester, ignoring the gibe. “I’m curious to know what Cad Jeffreys means to do. We’re bound to have some fun if he’s in it.”