“But,” said Felgate to himself, “there are other ways of being popular. I haven’t won the mile or anything else; I’m not particularly upright, and I shouldn’t like to assert I always either say what I mean or mean what I say. Still I can make myself pleasant to a parcel of kids when I choose; I can let them off some of their little rows, and I can help them to some better sport than all this tomfoolery about getting up a crack eleven and winning all the school prizes. Ainger won’t like it, but I fancy I can sail close enough to the wind not to give him a chance of being down on me. And as for Railsford—the snob—if he interferes, well, I can take it out of him in a way he don’t suspect. What a hypocrite the fellow must be to do a thing like that, and come here smiling and talk about making this the crack house of Grandcourt! Bah!”
And the righteous soul of Felgate waxed hot within him, and he set himself to consider how, with least risk to himself, and most mischief to everyone else, he could drive a wedge into the project of his colleagues, and make to himself a party in Railsford’s. He passed in review the various rules of the house, to discover someone on which he might possibly found a grievance. For your man who sets himself to make a party must have a grievance. He fancied he had discovered just what he wanted in the time-honoured rule about compulsory cricket. Every boy was obliged to show up in the cricket-field three times a week, whether he liked it or not. There were very few boys in Railsford’s, as Felgate knew, who did not like it; but he fancied for all that he could make something out of the rule.
He began by breaking it himself. He knew that no one would be particularly concerned on his account, for he was an indifferent player, and also a prefect might on a pinch excuse himself. After a week’s abstention, during which, rather to his disappointment, no notice was taken of his defection, he began to talk about it to one and another of the more studious boys of the house, boys very keen on winning the school prizes at the end of the term for which they were entered. Sherriff of the Fifth was one of these, and, much as he liked cricket, he was bemoaning one day having to turn out into the fields just when he wanted to finish a knotty problem in trigonometry.
“Don’t go,” said Felgate. “Surely no one has a right to spoil your chance of a scholarship for a musty old school rule that ought to have been abolished a century ago.”
“It’s not a bad rule on the whole, I fancy,” said Sherriff; “but it comes a little rough on me just now.”
“My dear fellow, we’re not quite slaves here; and if it doesn’t suit you to go down on your knees to an antiquated rule of this kind, then you’re not the fellow I take you for if you do it. It hasn’t suited me often enough, and I’ve not been such a muff as to think twice about it.”
“What happened to you when you didn’t turn up?”
“Nothing, of course. I should have been rather glad if something had, for the sake of fighting the thing out. It’s enough to make some fellows loathe the very name of cricket, isn’t it?”
“Some of the fellows who can’t play don’t like it, certainly.”
“I don’t blame them. If only a few of them would stand out, they’d soon break down the system. But I’m keeping you from your work, old man; you’ll think me as bad as the rule. They say you’ll have a jolly hard fight for your exam, so you’re right to waste no time.”