“Come in,” said Dr Patrick.
He was surprised to see three monitors obey the invitation. It was very rarely that a petition was presented from the school to the head master at Willoughby. Once, some years ago, a petition signed by the entire school, from the captain down to the junior fag, praying for a holiday in honour of an old Willoughbite having led the British troops to victory in a great battle, had been presented and granted. And once since then, a petition from the monitors of each house requesting that the head of each house might be allowed to use the cane when necessary, instead of the captain of the school only, had been presented and declined.
Now came a third petition, signed by certain monitors of two houses, asking the doctor to withdraw one captain and substitute another.
“What is it?” asked the head master.
“A petition, sir,” said Game, handing the momentous document in.
The doctor opened it and glanced at it with a puzzled look, which soon darkened into a frown.
“What is all this?” he asked, looking up.
His aspect was not promising. Nevertheless it was necessary for some one to speak, and Game therefore blurted out, “We don’t think Riddell will make a good captain, sir, and—” and here stopped.
“And what, sir?” demanded the doctor.
“And,” said Game, in rather a faltering voice, “we thought you would not be angry if we petitioned you about it.”