“If it were for nothing more than the moral training it gives a man,” said Charlie—“for the pluck, manliness, and endurance it puts into him—we couldn’t over-estimate the value of athletics; could we, sir?”
“No—er—that is to say—”
“Why, look at Jim, here! Upon my word, sir, if you’ll excuse me saying it, it does you the greatest credit the way he has been brought up to value healthy exercise. Why, there are some parents and guardians who, instead of encouraging that sort of thing, would positively so far wrong their sons as to forbid it. I can’t make out that sort of training, can you?”
“Eh? Well, possibly not,” faltered the uncle, turning very red.
“Of course not, and you’ll have your reward in seeing Jim turn out a far better clergyman than your mollycoddles, who don’t know the way to look their fellow-men straight in the face. Jim, old man, you’ve had my cup up there ten minutes; hand it up.”
Jim filled it to overflowing, as a token, perhaps, of the gratitude of his heart towards his champion, and forthwith handed it up.
“And à propos of that,” pursued Charlie, having gulped down his coffee, “you are just come up here in the nick of time, for there’s a glorious football-match on to-day—”
The uncle groaned and the aunt fidgeted.
“In which Jim is playing, and no one deserves the honour better. You must come and see it by all means. Eh, Jim?”
“Rather,” said Jim; “it would never do to miss it, especially as Newcome is playing against us. The worst of it is, as we are both engaged, there will be no one to pilot you about.”