Then when they were well started once more the captain said, “Who’s going to win the juniors’ match, Parson? Our fellows quite think they are.”
“Yes,” said Parson, contemptuously; “I heard they had cheek enough to say so. But they’ll be disappointed for once.”
“Well,” said Riddell, “they’ve been practising pretty steadily of late. They’re not to be despised. Whatever has become of the juniors’ eleven in the schoolhouse, Telson?”
“Can’t make out,” replied Telson; “they’re an awful set of louts this year; only one or two good men in the lot. I don’t think they can scrape up an eleven.”
“Ah!” said the captain, seeing his chance; “you’ve lost a good many good fellows. Wyndham, for one, has got up into the second-eleven, I hear.”
“Yes,” said Parson; “and jolly cocky he is about it, too!”
“He’s not been down at the practices lately, though,” said Telson, colouring slightly, and for no apparent reason.
“Why? Is he seedy?” said the captain.
“Eh! No; I don’t think so. Wyndham’s not seedy, is he, should you think, Parson?”
“No,” said Parson, exchanging uncomfortable glances with his ally; “not exactly seedy.”