His reflections were broken in upon by Jack.
"These morning matches are the deuce, you know, Logan. Half our fellows are in business, and it's a rare job to get a team together."
"One can't always get off when one wants to," said Mr. Yard sympathetically; "I've found that meself."
"I shouldn't have taken them on," continued the other, stripping off his shirt, and groping in his bag for a jersey, "if it hadn't been that they're leaving Plymouth on Friday. The Colonel was very keen to have a cut at us first, as we haven't been beaten this year. The old beggar thought he'd catch us on the hop if he could fix up a mid-week match. He'll be awfully sick when he finds you're playing for us. I expect there are a lot of people after you when you're on a holiday, aren't there?"
"Quite enough," confessed Mr. Yard.
A sudden sound of laughter and voices outside became audible, and Tubby, walking to the door, flung it open.
"Here are the others!" he said.
Some seven or eight young fellows, most of them already changed, came straggling across the field. When they saw Tubby at the door they raised a cheerful "Coo-ee!"
"The Campbells are coming!" called out one.
The words had hardly left his lips when a big brake, packed with men, rumbled along the road and drew up at the entrance to the ground.