Last week, when Brinkman was obliged to retire, he thought his chance was come, and great was his mortification when he found that his nomination was not accepted by the captain.

Still he didn't despair.

When he saw the vacancies caused in the team by the defection of the Moderns, his hopes rose again; but once more they were dashed by the captain's announcement of a fifteen made up wholly of Classics.
To-day he had not had the heart to come out and see the coaches start, and was moping in his own room, when some one brought in word that Rollitt was not going to play after all, and that the team was setting out a man short.
Whereupon Corder dashed into his ulster, flung his flannels into his bag, and tore out of his house just in time to secure for himself the long-coveted honour, and find himself in the glorious position of "playing for the School." How was such a fellow likely to trouble his head about strikes, and protests, and organised desertion?
Fortunately for the comfort of his journey, he had to pack himself away on the floor between the feet of Ridgway and another of the team, who, if they kicked him at all, only did it by accident or by way of encouragement, and not as Dangle or Brinkman might have done, in spite.
The rain was coming down pretty steadily by the time the party got to their destination, and the gloom on the brows of the four Modern prefects deepened as they looked up and speculated on the delights of standing for an hour on the wet grass watching their rivals play.
"Dangle," said Clapperton, "we must stop that cad Corder's playing at all cost.

It will upset everything.

Come and talk to him." But Corder, perhaps with an inkling of what was in store for him, had entrenched himself behind a number of other players, and in close proximity to Ranger, who had evidently told himself off to see that the last recruit of the fifteen was not tampered with.
The signals of the two seniors were studiously not observed, and when Dangle, getting desperate, said-- "Corder, half a minute; Clapperton wants you." Ranger interposed with-- "Come on, you fellows, it's time we got into our flannels," and effectually checkmated the manoeuvre.
"If he doesn't get paid out for this," growled Clapperton, "I'm precious mistaken." "Yes; and the other fellows must see that he is.