“The storm is nearly over, and now there is next term to consider. I am not sure how much Harley’s reputation as a sporting school will have suffered by the events of the present term, but the probability is that an impression will spread that we shall take some little time to find our feet again. Not much will be expected of us at Aldershot, for example. It will be known that our professional was sent away. Yet it will be at Aldershot that we shall have to retrieve our good name. To recommence football and try to catch up next term would be unwise. We never do play football in the Easter term, nor do many of the other schools we play, and in any case we should be a term behind everybody else in combination. It will be better to let this stand as a lean year at football, and instead we must send such a team to Aldershot as has never been turned out by any Public School before. All the enthusiasm that has been stored up this term must be called out. We must go boxing mad and sweep the board. If any critics think that a term’s ill fortune can hold us down we shall show them that they are mistaken. This will be possible because the Headmaster who ruined our football season is not coming back.” He paused. The father and the son were peering at him intently. A look had come over Toby’s countenance which would have told those who knew him best that he was following a particular train of thought and that he had led up to the crucial point. “Do you want your boy to go back to Harley to-night, and box for the school in the biggest year in their history next term, Mr Carr?” Johnny turned slowly and looked at Bobbie, then back at Toby. “For the last five years I have been counting the days to the time when my boy would box for a Public School at Aldershot,” said he. Toby smiled. He took a step forward and laid his hand on Johnny’s shoulder. “Coles is expecting to be captain of boxing next term,” said he. “What do you say to that?” For a moment Johnny said nothing. At last he looked up. “I can hardly imagine a worse boy in the school to be a captain than Mr Coles’ son,” said he, “and if there is anybody else——” “There has got to be somebody else,” said Toby. “If we let Coles be captain we might as well chuck up the sponge. And there is somebody else.” “Then,” asked Johnny reasonably enough, “why will they not elect him captain?” “Because he cannot box.” There was a brief silence. At last Toby drew a deep breath. “I am going to get a car and take your boy back to Harley,” said he. “Will you be able to get him in?” “If he has not been reported absent by the time I get back,” said Toby, “I will get him in. It is a service for Harley. We need him to box in the feathers for the school next term. And here is the bargain. If I get him in, will you in return do something yourself for Harley, a secret service of your own?” “What is it?” asked Johnny.