Acton's Feud: A Public School Story

by Mrs. George de Horne Vaizey

  CHAPTER VI

  THE LAST CAP

  While Acton was thus making such strenuous exertions to lift Biffen's outof the mire, Bourne was finding out the whole unpainted beauty of thesituation--as far as it concerned himself.

  The experimental footer elevens were chosen in what, I believe, is theusual manner. The old members of the school eleven formed a committee, andchose fellows to play in the weekly matches, and if any one of them showedspecial talent he was, of course, retained, and by-and-by the captain gavehim his school cap, and he was henceforth a full-blown member of theeleven, with a seat on the committee like any of the old gang.

  There were left of the last year's team five players--Bourne, Mivart,Vercoe, Baines, and Roberts. The final promotion of fellows into theeleven, however, rested with the captain alone, and when he considered anyfellow good enough he signified the same by presenting him with the blueand silver cap of St. Amory.

  The giving away of a cap had become quite a function. Whenever there wasthe rumour that some one was to have a cap after a match, pretty well thewhole school swarmed round the pavilion, and when the new member came outin all the glory of his new blue and silver he got the cheers which hisplay or popularity deserved, and especially did the new member's housedistinguish themselves in the shouting.

  Thus Bourne had six caps at his disposal, and since "Socker" had beenintroduced, the last cap was always given so that when the school playedthe last match--the Carthusians--the eleven would be complete.

  Bourne saw at once the cloud which was rising on the horizon when, at thefirst committee meeting to choose the eleven against "The Cognoscenti"Mivart said, "Well, Bourne, we've got your partner for to-morrow readymade. I think we may put that new chap Acton down right off."

  "Rather," said Vercoe. "He can't be left out."

  "Best back we've seen for an age-barring Phil, of course," said Baines.

  "And the others we'll have to fight over, as usual. My choice is Hodgsonfor centre."

  "Too lazy, Roberts. Mine is Chalmers."

  "Rot! He's a winger."

  And so the selection of an eleven against the Cognoscenti went on in theusual old-fashioned style.

  Bourne dropped into my study afterwards and said, gloomily; "On the whole,Carr, had I not better tell the fellows that they may elect Acton for ourschool fixtures, but he cannot have his cap? That will take the bull bythe horns from the beginning."

  "By no means. The other fellows have nothing whatever to do with givingcaps away; that is your business entirely. Besides, who knows? Acton maynot care to play when he knows he cannot get his cap."

  "I'd be agreeably surprised if he didn't. But that won't be his littlegame. Take my word for it, he'll turn out on every blessed occasion, playlike a master of the game, and give us no end of trouble."

  "Perhaps he may. Anyhow, something may turn up between now and the lastmatch--we'll hope so, anyhow; and until the last cap is given away thefellows generally won't spot your little game."

  "'Tis only putting off the evil day, Carr," said Phil, discontentedly.

  "A good day to put off."

  Thus, when Hodgson was given the first cap, there was the general commentthat he was pretty sure to annex a cap sooner or later, and might as wellhave it soon. Acton's turn--so said the school would come later, thoughBiffen's house sneered. "Of course, Hodgson is in the Sixth. What else buta Sixth Form fellow is wanted in a footer eleven?"

  Sharpe's house secured the next two caps, and Biffen's groaned aloud."Whatever is old Phil about? One might think he was blind in his right eyeand straddled in his left. We'll send him a pair of gig lamps, and thenperhaps he may discover Acton--Acton, of Biffen's."

  The weeks went by, and after a spirited display by Chalmers against theEmeriti, he was given his cap, and for the first time since Biffen's was ahouse they had a man in the eleven. But they gasped as Chalmers came outof the pavilion with his blue and silver cap on his curls. "That assBourne found the house at last, and then he goes and carefully spots thewrong man. Whatever _is_ the matter with him? To pick Chalmers beforeActon! Rot!"

  Over tea that night Biffen's bubbled and choked, and the other housesbegan to take a lively interest in the next distribution, for thisconstant passing of Acton was becoming exciting. But still--and I was gladto see it--the school had faith in Phil; they counted on justice beingdone, as it were, in the last laps. No one mentioned a word to him aboutthe intense curiosity and even anxiety that his odd bestowal of caps hadexcited amongst them, for Phil has that way with him that can shut up afellow quicker than you can snap a knife if that fellow is travelling outof bounds.

  However, when Place, of Merishall's, came out of the pavilion a full-blownmember of the school eleven there was a scene. The whole body of fellowsnow thought that the comedy was pretty nearly becoming a tragedy, and theyshowed their feelings unmistakably. Place was cheered by Merishall's, butnot overwhelmingly, and from the other houses there was an ominoussilence. Place, as he trotted out, looked rather puzzled, and a bitundecided how to take his odd reception, and glanced rather helplesslyround at the sea of faces all turned anxiously towards him. There would bepretty nearly seven hundred fellows round the pavilion, for there was noend of excitement.

  "Keep up your pecker, Place! You're all right, anyhow!" shouted some one.

  The other members came out one by one, and were cheered to the echo, andat last Phil came out with Hodgson. He was rather pale, but had his backvery straight. There was a dead silence, and, for the first time since hehad been captain, Phil walked down the steps without a friendly cheer. Ithink even now the old school behaved itself very well--the fellows werenot behind the scenes, and didn't see more than was before their eyes, butthere was not a single word thrown out at Phil. Acton came out withWorcester, and the pity was that he didn't deserve the cheers he got.

  PHIL WALKED DOWN THE STEPS WITHOUT A FRIENDLY CHEER.]

  The week before the Carthusian match there was but one solitary player tobe promoted. The position was back, and every fellow in the place knewthat, bar Bourne himself, there wasn't another man that could hold acandle to Acton there. The committee doggedly, and with meaning, electedthe only player there was to elect, and Acton signified that he waswilling to play. Bourne, as usual, was there, and no one felt more than hethe air of distrust and constraint which hung over the meeting. When Actonwas unanimously elected for back Phil stolidly wrote out the list of theteam and had it pinned up on the notice-board. He had carefully drawn theline in red ink above the last name--Acton's--which showed that thepride of Biffen's was not in the eleven yet.

  Probably Acton on the next day played as well as even he had ever playedin his life, for he was almost impassable, and the crowd of fellowscheered him till they were hoarse. The minute the whistle blew, like oneman the whole school swarmed round the pavilion. The question each askedhimself and his chum was, "Would Acton get the last cap?" And the answerwas, "Why, of course! Who else should have it?"

  That afternoon to most of the fellows the eleven seemed an age gettinginto their sweaters and coats. When Acton appeared first, and it was seenthat he was wearing the pink cap of Biffen's on his head there was morethan astonishment, there was consternation. Whatever did it mean? Actonsmiled good-naturedly at the school as they cheered him to the echo, andhurried unconcernedly along. The others of the eleven came out dejectedly,and filed up the hill in gloomy little groups. The whole school waited forPhil, and when he came out, pale and worried, they received him in icysilence. As he was coming down the steps one of Biffen's fags shoutedshrilly, "Three cheers for Acton!"

  Phil stalked through the shouting school, and as I joined him and wewalked up together, he said, through his clenched teeth--

  "I wish, old man, I had never seen that brute."

  That evening Bourne wrote to Worcester offering him the remaining cap.

  Worcester flew across to Acton's room, and said, "Bourne has offered methe place--the last cap. He must be stark, staring mad!"

 
; "Take it," said Acton, coolly.

  "No fear," said Worcester. "We have a stupid kind of prejudice here forhaving the best eleven we can get, and it isn't the best if you're out ofit. Bourne has always been a most impartial fellow up to this date, sothis little occurrence has thrown us off the rails. Before I go toprotest, though, have you any idea what is the matter?"

  "He does not consider me fit for the eleven," said Acton with a lightlaugh, but also with perfect truth.

  "Rot!" said Dick, hurrying away.

  He hunted up the other nine fellows, and said bluntly his business.

  "I vote we all protest to Bourne. A round robin should meet the case."

  "Good," said Mivart. "Draw one up, Dicky dear."

  Dick in time produced the following:--

  "We, the undersigned, think that the St. Amory eleven is incompletewithout John Acton, of Biffen's house, and, consequently, that he ought tohave the last cap; and we would beg the captain to offer it him unlessthere be very good reasons for not doing so. We would suggest that if JohnActon isn't to have the cap he be told the reason. The undersigned do notwish in the smallest degree to prejudice the right of the captain toselect members for the eleven, but think that in the present case thewithholding of a cap from John Acton inexplicable."

  "You're a ready scribe, Dick," said Chalmers. "We may all sign that, eh?"

  "Yes," said Worcester. "I first, because I am undeservedly offered thecap, and the rest of you in order of membership."

  No one saw any objection to signing Dick's memorandum, and forthwith, withall legal formality, the round robin was signed by the ten, and sent toPhil by Dick's fag with orders to wait for an answer.

  It came within five minutes.

  "DEAR WORCESTER, I have no intention of offering John Acton a place in the St. Amory's football eleven. There are good reasons for not doing so, and I have already told Acton the reasons. Please let me know whether you accept the vacant place I had the pleasure of offering you. Yours sincerely, PHILIP BOURNE."

  This was a thunderbolt among the fellows. Then Acton knew!

  Worcester posted back to Acton, lost in amazement.

  "Look at this, Acton!"

  Acton carefully read Bourne's letter, and Dick, who was watching himanxiously, saw him bite his lips with rage; for Phil's icy contempt stoodout in every word of the letter.

  "He says you know why you are not in the eleven."

  Acton knew that he would have to explain something, or else Bourne wouldwin the day yet. So he said--

  "That is true. He told me so at the beginning of the season, but, ofcourse, I never bargained for his keeping his word; and when you hear thereason he gave me--if this is his reason--you'll gasp."

  "Well," said Dick, "although I've no right to ask you, I'd like to hearthe plain, unvarnished tale, for, speaking out, Phil Bourne has alwayspassed for a decent, level fellow. This business, somehow, doesn't seemhis form at all, and it is only fair to him to say it."

  "Did you see the match we had with Shannon's scratch team when the termbegan?"

  "I did."

  "Did you notice anything about my play?"

  "You opened our eyes a bit, I remember."

  "Did I play roughly?"

  "No. Not quite that! You were not gentle; but you aren't that as a rule,though your game is fair enough."

  "Not for Bourne. He doesn't like my game. I'm too rough. It's bad form,_pace_ Bourne, therefore I'm barred my place in the eleven."

  "Is that the explanation?"

  "Yes. Honour bright! Except"--Acton paused diplomatically for amoment--"except, I don't think he likes me."

  "Then Phil is a fool, and he'll find out pretty speedily that we can'tstand rot of this quality. I, of course, can't take the cap."

  "My dear fellow, why in the world not? If you don't, some other house willget it. Biffen's deserves two fellows in the eleven this year."

  "They do, by Jove!"

  "Then let us have the satisfaction of keeping out another Corker fellow."

  Dick told the other fellows plainly and without any gilding, hisconversation with Acton, and they pressed him to go and see Philpersonally; so Dick marched heavily to Bourne's quarters.

  "Sorry, Worcester, but I cannot explain anything. Not even to you. But Ido hope you'll come into the eleven."

  Dick said shortly, "I think I shall, for Biffen's deserves the other cap,though the right fellow isn't getting it. By the way, Bourne, you'll notbe very sweet to the school generally after this. They--the fellows--to aman, are no end cut up over Acton's treatment."

  "I supposed they would be. I knew it would be so."

  "Look here, Phil. You always did the square thing. Let us have the reasonfor this," said Dick, earnestly.

  "Sorry, Worcester, I can't."

  "Good night, then."

  "Good night."

  The rage and consternation of the Biffenites when they found that Bournewas immovable in his decision can be imagined. Some were inclined to takethe matter up to Corker's throne, but they were a miserable minority.

  "Let Corker have a finger in our own private affairs!" said Dick, withintense disgust. "What next, gentlemen? We won't be able to blow our ownnoses without his permission. Keep the masters out of this, whatever wedo. Can't we see the thing through ourselves? I vote we try, anyhow."

  Some were inclined to blame Dick for accepting the cap; but prettygenerally it was agreed that, if Acton was not to have it, Dick was thenext best man, but at what a distance! The honour of having two men in theeleven was no _solatium_ for the wounded pride of Biffen's, when theyconsidered their great injury. The reason, though, was, naturally, whatpuzzled them--and, for the matter of that, the whole school. Did Bourneexpect his team to play footer as though it were a game of croquet? Weredrawing-room manners to be introduced on to the Acres' clay? Were thefamous eleven of St. Amory's to amble about, like a swarm ofbread-and-butter misses? One wit suggested wadded coats and respirators.Acton rough, indeed! Phil Bourne must be an embodiment of his grandmother,then! Most of the fags in Biffen's house sent Phil elaborate instructionsfor "a nice drawing-room game to take the place of 'Socker'football--nasty, rough 'Socker' footer--for one-and-six, and guaranteedto do no injury to the most delicate constitution. A child can play it!"These letters were anonymous, of course; but Biffen's house-paper wasfreely used. "Anyhow," said Phil, with a gentle smile to me, "the spellingis obviously Biffen's."

  Acton went on his own way, serenely indifferent to his house, which wouldhave made a god of him on the smallest provocation. He cheerfully ignoredBourne, and he had the art of never seeing Phil when they met, in schoolor out, though, of course, Phil minded this not at all. When theCarthusians were played, Acton spent the afternoon reading with Raven,whose exam, was now very near; and, whilst the two were grinding out allthe absurd details of Horace and his patron, "and the poet's little farm,and the other rot which gains Perry Exhibitions," the shouts and cheersof the school down at the Acres came floating up the hill to their room.

  The school lost their match with the Carthusians--the match which a goodSt. Amorian would rather win than any two others--and it was plain thatDick, though a useful fellow, could not bottle up the forwards in theActonian style. This defeat was the last straw to break the back of theschool's patience.

  It was customary, after the Carthusian match, for the footer captain togive his eleven a formal tea, Phil arranged the usual preliminaries, sickat heart, and wearily certain as to the result. Three put in anappearance--Vercoe, Baines, and Roberts--and in place of the burly formsof the rest of the St. Amory's eleven, the sylph-like figures of theirfags flitted to Phil's hall of entertainment with curt little notes.Worcester and the rest "regretted they were unable to avail themselves ofthe captain's invitation."

  The tea was not a success.

  The school followed the plain lead of the eleven, and as Phil hurriedalong to chapel the next day no one hooked in with him, as
had been done"the day before yesterday!" He was left severely alone.

  In plain words, St Amory's School consigned Phil Bourne to Coventry.