Right across the close they
went, each doing all he knew, and there wasn't a yard between them when
they pulled up at the island moat.
"I say," said East, as soon as he got his wind, looking with much
increased respect at Tom, "you ain't a bad scud, not by no means. Well,
I'm as warm as a toast now."
"But why do you wear white trousers in November?" said Tom. He had been
struck by this peculiarity in the costume of almost all the School-house
boys.
"Why, bless us, don't you know? No; I forgot. Why, to-day's the
School-house match. Our house plays the whole of the School at football.
And we all wear white trousers, to show 'em we don't care for hacks.
You're in luck to come to-day. You just will see a match; and Brooke's
going to let me play in quarters. That's more than he'll do for any
other lower-school boy, except James, and he's fourteen."
"Who's Brooke?"
"Why, that big fellow who called over at dinner, to be sure. He's cock
of the school, and head of the School-house side, and the best kick and
charger in Rugby."
"Oh, but do show me where they play. And tell me about it. I love
football so, and have played all my life. Won't Brooke let me play?"
"Not he," said East, with some indignation. "Why, you don't know the
rules; you'll be a month learning them. And then it's no joke playing-up
in a match, I can tell you--quite another thing from your private school
games.
Pages:
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113