“You know,” said he, “I don’t see at all why we shouldn’t be able to get together a team for the junior elevens if we practise hard.”
“The nuisance is,” said Cusack, “we’re stopped an hour a day’s play all this term.”
“What for?” inquired the captain.
The melancholy story of Mr Parrett and the sulphuretted hydrogen was recounted.
“It’s a pity,” said he, gravely.
“I wonder if Paddy would mind giving us a licking instead,” suggested Pilbury, whose hands were of the horny kind.
Even the others whose palms were less seasoned seemed willing to fall in with this alternative, but Riddell discouraged it.
“No,” said he, “he’s not likely to do that. But I tell you what I’ll do. I’ll see him and Parrett and tell them about the club, and undertake that you’ll be steady the rest of the term if they’ll let you off. Do you think I’d be safe in saying so?”
“Rather! I’ll promise, for one,” cried Cusack.
“And I’ll try,” said Pilbury.